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Leonard /.. JVIorrisok 




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Iq Ii^elaqd, Scotland, England, Belginni, (Jei^iganJ, 
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Scotland and the North of Ireland. 






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By Leonard A. Morrison. 

All Rights Reserved. 


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This work is largely a personal narrative, which 
has been prepared in the spare hours of a busy life. 
Its object is to tell of countries visited during the 
ramblings of five months, of people seen, of their cus- 
toms and thoughts, their systems of government, and 
the influence of those governments upon the people. 
It is to speak of friendships formed, of persons absent 
from me, but who in spirit will abide with me forever. 
In these wanderings I have spoken of men, institu- 
tions, places, and events as they impressed me. My 
mission was semi-historical. My experiences in Ire- 
land, Scotland, and England have been largely given. 
This is especially true of my tour through the orig- 
inal Scotch setdements in Ireland, and also of my 
journey in Scotland. Much historical matter relating 
to Scotch-American families has been purposely 
woven into the narrative. The subject has been a 
favorite theme : over it my pen loves to linger. To 
those places on the other side of the sea my mind 
reverts as do the thoughts of a wanderer to his early 

Much of the journey wa* over ground visited by 
numerous travellers, whose adventures have been 
rehearsed in many books. No two persons have the 
same experience, nor do they see with the same eyes. 
The kaleidoscopic view changes with every tourist. 
I saw with American eyes, and judged with a judg- 
ment which is my own, and endeavored at all times 


to be impartial, "with malice toward none, and with 
charity for all." It is my hope that the reader may be 
able to appropriate some kernels of the grain which 
I have gathered from the oft-gleaned fields. 

Other portions of the journey were on less frequented 
routes of travel, and it is my wish that the descriptions 
of the same may be of interest and value. 

The smaller illustrations for this work have been 
sketched by C. H. Dinsmoor and L. J. Bridgman. 
Those who took so kindly an interest in my mission 
to the Old World have my sincere thanks. 

While this book is written largely for my own 
pleasure, it is also prepared with the hope that others 
may derive profit from its perusal. This, with other 
writings, cannot bring me much pecuniary profit, nor 
the laudation of men ; but they have brought a better 
compensation in the new avenues of enjoyment which 
they have unfolded, and in the fascination which they 
have thrown around my leisure hours. They have 
brought me many congenial spirits for companions, 
whom to know is to love, and to be understood by 
them is to be greatly blest. The pleasures of life 
have been increased. Its channel has been broad- 
ened and deepened. Its skies are brighter, and life is 
made worth living. As I have received so much from 
others, the thought that I may be able to return some- 
thing for the pleasure and profit of those about me 
affords me the liveliest satisfaction. 

L. A. M. 

Windham, N. H. 


Leonard A. Morrison Frontispiece. 

"The Early Home" faces page i6 

Blarney Castle . . . 35 

Irish Jaunting-Car 38 

MucKRoss Abbey 39 

Eagle's Nest, at Lakes of Killarney ... 40 

Ancient Round Tower 49 

Londonderry, Ireland 53 

Birthplace of Burns 99 

Alloway Kirk 102 

AuLD Brig o' Doon 103 

Burns's Monument 105 

Glasgow Cathedral - 109 

Dumbarton Castle 120 

Linlithgow Castle 124 

Edinburgh Castle 128 

Scott's Monument 130 

Palace of Holyrood 133 

Old Tombs : Grey Friars Churchyard . . . 137 

Home of Walter Scott at Abbotsford . . 143 

Millholm Cross 156 

Hollows Tower 159 

Armstrong Arms 162 

Cannobie 163 

Stirling Castle 178 

View of Stornoway 197 

MoRisoN Arms 201 

Druidical Stones at Callernish 206 

Cottage and Pictish Tower 210 

Ben Lomond and Loch Lomond . . faces page 227 

Ellen's Isle, Loch Katrine 231 

The Trossachs 232 

Battlefield of Bannockburn 234 

William Wordsworth 239 

Grasmere Church 241 

Nelson's Monument, London 251 


Westminster Abbey faces page 261 

Henry VII's Chapel, Westminster Abbey . 263 

Coronation Chair 263 

Effigy of Mary Queen of Scots 264 

Oliver Cromwell 265 

Tower of London 276 

Caxton's Printing Press 282 

Cleopatra's Needle 283 

William E. Gladstone 291 

Mound at Waterloo 300 

On the Rhine faces page 307 

Fortress of Ehrenbreitstein 308 

BiNGEN on the Rhine 310 

Heidelberg 312 

The Great Tun 314 

Falls in the Alps faces page 317 

The Tower 3^8 

The Great Aletsch Glacier . . . faces page 319 

Lucerne . . . 320 

In the Swiss Mountains faces page 321 

Lion of Lucerne 321 

Fluelen 322 

Swiss Cottage and Mountains 324 

Thun faces page 327 

Night in the Alps 327 

Berne faces page 329 

Geneva 330 

In the Alps faces page 33 1 

Notre Dame faces page 333 

Place de la Concorde faces page 335 

Arc de Triomphe and Champs-Elysbes faces page 335 

New Opera House, Paris 336 

Napoleon's Sarcophagus 338 

Western FAgADE of the Louvre . . faces page 339 
Palais Royal and Gardens .... faces page 341 

Colonne de Juillet 342 

Church of the Madeline .... faces page 343 
Palace and Gardens of Versailles faces page 345 

Shakespeare's Birthplace 348 

Hathaway Cottage 348 

Stratford-on-Avon 349 

Shakespeare's Monument 349 

Chester 350 


PREFATORY.— (Pages 1-16.) 

Dedication. List of Illustrations. Introduction. Table of Con- 

CHAPTER I.— (Pages 17-31.) 


The early home, 17. The dream of childhood, 18. The hope 
realized, the letter of credit, the ship, 19. The departure, cele- 
bration in New York, 20. Bon voyage, countries visited, 21. A 
wilderness of waters, 22. Monotony of the voyage, 23. Ocean 
tramps, different classes of passengers, 24. Cabin passengers, 
Mr. Jones, 25. Mr. Jones commands respect, 26. Meeting ves- 
sels, a storm at sea, 27. The night's great darkness, 28. Sab- 
bath services, 29. In sight of land, Fastenet Light, 30. Landing 
at Queenstown, 31. 

CHAPTER II.— (Pages 32-52.) 


Queenstown, 32. Care of luggage, 33. On the river Lee, the city 
of Cork, 34. Those Shandon bells. Blarney castle, 35. Groves 
of Blarney, 36. Killarney, 37. Estates of Mr. Herbert, Earl of 
Kenmore, the Irish jaunting car, 38. Muckross abbey, graves of 
the O'Sullivans, McCarthys, and Herberts, 39. Lakes of Killar- 
ney, 40. Cromwell's bridge, 41. Market day at Killarney, 42. 
Irish cabins, 43. A devout Irishman, price of women's labor, 
-two classes in Ireland, 44. Railway carriages, unpleasant com- 
panions in a third class carriage, 45. At Mallow, Irish pedigrees, 
46. Irish wit, 47. Remarkable ruins, " Devil's bit," 48. Round 
Tower, Dublin, Trinity college, 49. Phenix park, Public Records 
office, 50. Official discourtesy, 51. The " 1649" officers, Scotch 
names on records, 52. 


CHAPTER III.— (Pages 53-93.) 


Londonderry, 53. Aghadowey, the home of Rev. James McGregor 
and many of the settlers of Londonderry, N. H., 54. Scotch 
patronymics, 55. Battle of the Boyne, Mr. Hewitt, Lord Lifford, 
56. City of Londonderry, 57. Its interesting objects, meeting a 
descendant of James Morrison of the siege of i688-'89, Walker 
monument, 58. The broken boom, Magee college, the obliging 
attendant, 59. Interview with Bishop Alexander, Mrs. Alexan- 
der, 60. Home of the poet, 61. The famous cathedral and its 
relics, 62. Records of the cathedral, familiar names and genea- 
logical difficulties, 63. Family records not kept, communication 
from Board of Trade, 64. The cemetery, 65. Hon. Arthur Liv- 
ermore, U. S. consul, 66. The ludicrous court, 67. St. Patrick's 
day, 68. Enniskillen, ruins of Devenish island, 69. The Morri- 
sons, Rev. Mr. Cochran, Donegal, Barnesmore gap, 71. Family 
of Park, 72. Last glimpse of Londonderry, Castle Rock, Rev. 
James Armstrong, 73. Green castle, Coleraine, 74. The Dins- 
moors, 75. The Pattersons, Aghadowey, the old home of Lon- 
donderry, N. H., settlers, 76. The Nesmiths, the Cochrans, tt- 
The Morrisons, the Caldwells, 78. Familiar names in the Scotch 
settlements, entertained by William Morrison and Hugh R. Mor- 
rison, 79. Ancient earthworks, 80. Giant's Causeway, 81-83. 
Sixty miles by jaunting car, Carrick-a-Rede, 84. County of An- 
trim, 85. Belfast, 86. Landlordism, 87. Home of William E. 
Armstrong, 88. Demolished cabins, 89. Two classes, 90. Love 
for Americans, 91. Home Rule, 92. Farewell to Ireland, 93. 

CHAPTER IV.— (Pages 94-125.) 


Emigrants to Ireland in 1641, 95. Ruins of Castle Kennedy, 96. 
A pack of hounds, 97. Hounds and race horses in England, 98. 
Birthplace of Burns, 99. His genius, 100. Tam O'Shanter inn, 
loi. Alloway kirk, 102. Auld Brig o' Doon, 103. The niece of 
Burns, 104. European toilers, 105. Auchenleck, first home of 
the Cochrans, 106. Glasgow, 107. Management of railways, 108. 
Improvements of the Clyde, the cathedral, 109. Religion and 
patriotism, no. The crypt, in. A Scotch audience, 112. The 
Necropolis, Bridge of Sighs, Michael Simons, 113. Botanic Gar- 
dens, libraries, 114. Rev. Donald Morrison, surnames, Gallow 


gate, 115. Paisley, 116. Robert Tannahill, 117. Gifted authors, 

118. Home of Sir William Wallace, ship yards on the Clyde, 

119. Dumbarton castle, Greenock, 120. The dross burned away, 
121. Grave of " Highland Mary," 122. Home of the Nesmiths, 
123. Linlithgow castle, 124. The Roman wall, 125. 

CHAPTER v.— (Pages 126-141.) 


Reaching Edinburgh, 126. In apartments, 127. The castle, 128. 
Scotland's regalia, Princes Street Gardens, 129. The vanished 
lake, Scott's monument, Calton Hill, 130. Heart of Midlothian, 
the university, subscribing to the covenant, 131. Libraries, graves 
of John Knox and of Thomas Chalmers, 132. Grave of Hugh 
Miller, Arthur's Seat, 133. Holyrood palace, 134. The Canon- 
gate, curious wynds, 135. Former homes of illustrious families, 
136. House of John Knox, Grey Friars church, martyrs of the 
covenant, 137. Capt. F. W. L. Thomas, R. N., pleasant remi- 
niscences, 138. Oscar Malmross.U. S. consul. Dean bridge. Gen- 
eral Register House, 139. Difficulty in consulting records, 140. 
Farewell to Edinburgh, 141. 

CHAPTER VI.— (Pages 142-170.) 


Home of Sir Walter Scott, 143. Arms of border families, 144. 
Clan Scott, 145. Melrose, 146. Melrose abbey, the heart of 
Bruce, 147. Reverence for royalty, 148, 149. Scott's regard for 
royalty, 150. Dryburgh abbey, grave of Scott, clan Maxwell, 151. 
Clans Chisholm, Turnbull, and Armstrong, 152. Antiquity of 
the Armstrongs, 153. Lands granted to Lancelot Armstrong, 
home of Gilnockie Armstrong, 154. In the Debatable Country, 
cemetery at Castleton, 155. Millholm cross, 156. Ettleton cem- 
etery, Kershopfoot, and Langholm, 157. Castle of Gilnockie 
Armstrong, 158. The Hollows Tower, 159. Strength of the 
clan, 160. Ensnaring and death of Gilnockie Armstrong, i6r. 
Churchyard at Cannobie, arms of the Armstrongs, 162. Beautiful 
Cannobie, its name made immortal by Scott, 163. Archie Arm- 
• strong, the great wit, emigration of members of the clan to Ire- 
land, 164. Armstrongs in Ireland, 165. Prominent names of the 
family in America, Scotch prisoners, 166. Visit to Hermitage 
castle, 167. The Douglasses, 168. Hornless black cattle, a 
pedestrian tour, 169. Dinner at a thatch-roofed cottage, depart- 
ure for the Hebrides, 170. 


CHAPTER VII.— (Pages 171-196.) 


The way I reached Gretna, 171. Lockerby, 172. The clan John- 
ston, Peebles, 173. Neidpath castle, Henry Armour, 174. Home 
of the Sinclair or St. Clair family, Roslin chapel, 175. Hawthorn- 
den, Lasswade, castle of Craigmillar, home of the Pinkerton fam- 
ily, 176. Home of the Stark family, J. Grant McLean, 177. 
Stirling castle. Bridge of Allan, Campsie hills, 178. Garden of 
the King, Vale of Monteith, Wallace monument, 179. The 
Bridge of Stirling, the old battle-ground of William Wallace, 180. 
Battle-field of Bannockburn, the " Bore Stone," Henry de Bohun, 
182. Gillie's hill. Abbey Craig, Wallace monument, six battle- 
fields, 183. Cambuskenneth abbey, 184. Home of the Aber- 
crombies, battle of Sherriflf-muir, 185. Value of a belt, Glen- 
Dochart, country of the Clan Campbell, 186. Origin of Scotch 
clans, 1S7. First appearance of the Campbells, 188. Their 
strength and ancient home, Tyndrum, Dalmally, Castle of Kil- 
churn, 189. "It's a far cry to Lochow," Loch Etive, Oban, 
departure for Stornoway, 190. In localities made famous by Will- 
iam Black, Island of Mull, 191. Mountains of Ulva, islands of 
Muck, Eig, Rum, Canna, and Skye, 192. Tragedy of the cavern, 
193. Seat of Lord Macdonald, jagged coast of Lewis, 194. Wel- 
come to Stornoway, 195. Greetings of a clansman, 196. 

CHAPTER VIII.— (Pages 197-213.) 


Population and extent of Lewis and Harris, Earl Dunmore, Sir 
James Matheson, 197. Description of Lewis, Scandinavian 
names, 198. Black wings, fishermen in Stornoway, Norman Mor- 
ison, 199. Life in Stornoway, 200. First home of the Morisons, 
the Morison arms, 201. Great number of the name, 202. The 
Macaulays and Macleods, Lord Macaulay of the Lewis family, 
203. Gray crows, no trees or shrubs, Garra-na-hina, 204. Places 
described by William Black, 205. Original of home of " Sheila," 
and the " King of Borva," 206. The druidical stones at Caller- 
nish, 207. Houses of the crofters, 208. The smoking cabins at 
night, 209. Visiting the cottages, 210. Distress of the crofters, 
and the rebellion in Skye, 211. Land troubles, 212. A coming 
storm. Will Britain be just? 213. 


CHAPTER IX.— (Pages 214-234.) 


Leaving Stornoway, 214. A physician's practical joke, from Ulla- 
pool to Garve, 215. Waterfall of Corry Halloch, planting trees 
upon mountains, game forests, Mr. Winans of Baltimore, 216. A 
mountain divides the waters, a mountain of storms, arrive at In- 
verness, Mr. White, librarian, 217. Alexander Mackenzie, battle- 
field of Culloden, 218. Burial-place of the clans, and stones to 
each, 219. The typical Celt, Inverness, 220. Through the Cal- 
edonian canal, what waters the canal connects, 221. Falls of 
Foyers, Balluchulish, 222. Sorrowing chief of Glencoe, 223. The 
massacre, the Pass of Glencoe, 224. Old homes of the Macdon- 
alds, Ossian's cave, the Crinan canal, 225. Again in Glasgow, 
226. On Ben Lomond, 227. Loch Lomond, Rob Roy's cave, 
228. Haunts of Roy Roy, land of the MacGregors, 229. Their 
early home, 230. Loch Katrine, Loch Vennachar, 231. Through 
the Trossachs, meeting Hon. P. C. Cheney, 232. First home of 
Boyd family, 233. Farewell to Scotland, 234. 

CHAPTER X.— (Pages 235-249.) 


Beauty of England, 235. Carlisle, home of the Musgraves, Kes- 
wick, 236. Home of Southey and Coleridge, at the English lakes, 
coach drive to Windermere, 237. Curious names of hotels, Der- 
wentwater, 238. Thirlemere lake, Dunmail Raise Pass, Grass- 
mere, 239. Home of William Wordsworth, 240. His grave, 
Grassmere church, grave of Hartley Coleridge, 241. Homes of 
Harriet Martineau and Mrs. Hemans, 242. Small cathedral, 
Lake Windermere, 243. English opinion of American politics, 
244. Two Englishmen measure lances, 245, 246. City of Leeds, 
a Sabbath in York, Roman ruins, the walls, 247. The cathedral 
and triumphant song, 248. Stone coffins, arrival in London, 249. 

CHAPTER XL— (Pages 250-292.) 


Its bright skies. Charing Cross, Scotland Yard, 251, An event 
wholesome to royalty, the embankment, 252. Underground rail- 
way, Cleopatra's Needle, 253. Mary Anderson, Henry Irving, 
254. Covent Garden, 255. American Exchange, and Americans 
met, 256. Somerset House, Henry F. Waters, James A. D. 


Camp, 257. Kew Gardens, 258. Richmond Hill, 259. St. 
James's Park, the Mall, 260. The queen's stables, 261. West- 
minster abbey, 262. Chapel of Henry 7th, coronation chair, 263. 
Where Cromwell was entombed, 264. Beheading the dead Crom- 
well, 265. Present place of Cromwell's skull, no monument to 
Cromwell, 266. Poet's corner in the abbey, Longfellow, Major 
John Andrd, 267. Services in the abbey, 268. Spurgeon's 
preaching, 269. Rev. Dr. Parker, 270. No elasticity to British 
law, shrimps, 271. The British Museum, Henry Stevens, 272. 
Title deeds of Babylon, Egyptian relics, 273. St. Paul's church, 
274. Monument to Gen. Ross and Lord Cornwallis, 275. Tower 
of London, 276. The crown jewels, 277. Horse armory, instru- 
ments of torture, 278. Waiter's gate, Hyde park, 279. The 
Albert memorial and Albert hall, 280. South Kensington Mu- 
seum, Crystal Palace, Hampstead Heath, 281. Liquor shops and 
girls for bar-tenders, Caxton's printing-press, 282. Hon. Thomas 
Biggar, Rev. Dr. Kinnear, through the parliament buildings, 283. 
Wonderful history of Westminster Hall, 284. Entrance to House 
of Commons, art galleries, slight allusions to America in paintings, 
police everywhere, 285. Difficulties in visiting parliament, 286. 
In the House of Lords, 287. Visit to the House of Commons, 
Sir Thomas McClure, the Maori king, 288. Herbert Gladstone, 
peculiarities of British orators, 289. Sir Stafford Northcote, 290. 
William E. Gladstone, 291. His preeminence, 292. 

CHAPTER XII.— (Pages 293-31S.) 


Leaving London, Antwerp, 293. Its celebrated paintings, cathe- 
dral, 294. Peter Paul Rubens, 295. Brussels, Hotel de Ville, 
296. Famous places in Brussels, 297. Palace of Justice, 298. 
Habits of the people, 299. Battlefield of Waterloo, 300. Aix- 
la-Chapelle, 301. Curious sights and customs, 302. Tomb of 
Charlemagne, Cologne, Hotel de Holland, 303. Cathedral, 304. 
City of Cologne, 305. A railway race, Bonn, 306. Beauties of 
the Rhine, Drachenfels, Coblentz, 307. Ehrenbreitstein, the 
vineyards, 308. German beds, Stolzenfels, Rheinfels, St. Goar, 
Lurlei, Schonburg, birthplace of Marshal Schomberg, 309. Good 
memories of the Germans, Mouse Tower, Archbishop Hatto of 
Mayence, 310. Bingen on the Rhine, 311. Mayence, Bishop J. 
F. Hurst, Heidelberg, 312. Its wonderful castles, 313. Its great 
tun, university, 314. Antiquated agricultural utensils, 315. 


Baden-Baden, Strasburg, cathedral, clock, 316. The hermetically 
sealed case, German laundries, 317. At Bale, 318. 

CHAPTER XIII.— (Pages 319-331-) 


Lucerne, Lion of Lucerne, 320. The Rigi-Kulm, Fluelen, Vitznau, 
322. Sunrise on the Alps, 323. Homes of the Swiss moun- 
taineers, Brienz, 324. The Brunig Pass, 325. Falls of the Giess- 
bach, Lake of Brienz, the Jungfrau, Great Aletsch glacier, 326. 
Lake of Thun, Berne, celebrated clock tower, 327. Federal 
Council Hall, Lusanne, Hotel Gibbon, the markets, cathedral, 
328. Lake of Geneva, Ouchy, Morgas, Rolle, Nyon, Coppet, 
Versoix, Chateau of Prangins, Joseph Bonaparte, Madame de 
Stael, 329. Geneva, Rousseau, John Calvin, the Swiss, 330. 
Swiss soldiers, 331. 

CHAPTER XIV.— (Pages 332-351.) 


Meeting a clansman, Paris, Gen. George Walker, 332. Ex-Gov. 
P. C. Cheney, Notre Dame, place where Napoleon was crowned, 
the prince imperial, the Madeline, 333. Place de la Concorde, 
place of execution of Louis XVL Marie Antoinette, Charlotte 
Corday, Danton, Robespierre, 334. Obelisk of Luxor, Arc de 
Triomphe, Palace of the Elysdes, Champs-Elysdes, Palais de ITn- 
dustrie, 335. New Opera House, 336. Palais du Trocadero, 
Hotel des Invalides, 337. Napoleon's tomb, 338. The Louvre, 
339. Place du Carrousel, Palace of the Tuileries, 340. Palais 
Royal, 341. Place de la Bastile, Colonne de Juiilet, Cemetery of 
Pere-la-Chaise, resting-place of Thiers, Marshal Macdonald, 
Madame de Genlis, 342. Grave of Ney, Bois de Bologne, St. 
Cloud, 343. Ville d'Avray, Versailles, apartments of Marie 
Antoinette, Napoleon I, Musee Historique, Grande Galerie, Gal- 
erie des Batailles, 345. Painting of siege of Yorktown, gardens. 
Column Vendome, the Gobelins, 346. Palace of the Luxembourg, 
Hotel de Ville, in London, at Oxford, 347. Stratford-on-Avon, 
Shakespeare's birthplace, his home, Hathaway cottage, Anne 
Hathaway. 348. Stratford church, Shakespeare's monument, 349. 
Chester, Liverpool, adieu to England, 350. The journey home, 




I^a/T\ble5 ^9 ^urope. 




Y early home was among the granite hills of 
New Hampshire. Like thousands of oth- 
ers who dwell in pleasant abodes on the plains, on 
the sloping mountain-side, or nestling among the 
green valleys of the state we love, we, my broth- 
ers, my sister, and I, who formed the youthful 
flock, drew vigor from the bracing air, and inspira- 
tion from the beauties of the landscape, of wood- 
ed hills and valleys and bodies of water, which 
made beautiful the place of our nativity. 

The years passed quickly, as they always do. 
Childhood gave place to youth, as it always does. 
My brothers, older than I, stood on the threshold 
of young manhood, with life and its grand possi- 
bilities opening up brighdy before them, when 
their feet grew weary in the way, and after brief 
suffering they went forth, young, fresh, unspotted, 
into everlasting sunshine and joy. 


In childhood, when reading books of travel and 
of localities where some of the world's most tragic 
events have occurred, it was a sweet day-dream 
to sometime visit historic towns, to stand where 
the most renowned ones of earth had stood, and 
see and feel and know what they had seen and 
felt and known. 

This was previous to the time when everybody 
went to Europe — before the electric cable girdled 
the globe, and spoke with its tongue of flame from 
beneath the ocean's waters. It was before the 
huee "reindeers of the Atlantic" carried one 
from New York to Queenstown in six days. 
Neither at that time did Cook's Agency ticket 
the tourist, like an express package, to all parts 
of the civilized world, and to sections not civil- 
ized. There were then no holiday excursions to 
Europe and return, with courteous conductors to 
relieve one of every trouble save that of breath- 
ing, and feeing impecunious servants on the other 
side of the sea. 

The dream of childhood was the hope of youth, 
the undefined plan of early manhood. Each year 
brought its duties and delayed its execution. Oft- 
entimes an event, slight and trivial, will change 
the course of a life. Standing upon a mountain 
in Scotland, one can see where the descending 
waters from a higher point are divided by a slight 
ridge, and one tiny rill, trickling down the moun- 
tain-side, increased in volume and intensity, till 


it became a powerful current, and emptied into 
the North sea. The other flowed down the oppo- 
site way, became a mighty stream, and emptied 
into the Atlantic ocean. 

As the ridge on the mountain divided the wa- 
ters, so an event, small in itself, turned me from 
the beaten track, and changed my life. A strange 
course of events, unlooked for and unexpected, 
compelled my course into a literary channel, 
which it had been no purpose of mine to enter, 
and into which my first choice would not have 
led me. After six years of unremitting toil, two 
books went forth to the world as the fruit of 
my pen. As the result of those historical works, 
a letter from a person whom I have never met led 
to the journey abroad, and this volume is the 
result. Thus the dream of childhood came true. 
One hope of youth was realized, and the plan of 
early manhood executed, sooner than had been 

Having concluded to make the journey, I got 
my letter of credit from Kidder, Peabody & Co., of 
Boston, on which I could draw on many banks in 
Europe, and secured passage to Liverpool, Eng- 
land, by the good ship City of Chicago, and a 
return ticket by any ship of the Inman line. 
February 20, 1884, having been fixed upon as 
the day of my departure, I left the home de- 
scribed in the commencement of this chapter, 
with my face turned toward the Old World. 


On arrival in New York, it was ascertained that 
owing to rough weather, a prolonged and danger- 
ous voyage from England, the vessel would not 
sail on advertised time. This gave an opportu- 
nity for witnessing the elaborate and imposing 
demonstration on Washington's birthday in hon- 
or of the heroes of the Jeamiettej of the Arc- 
tic expedition, who had perished, in the cause of 
science, in the eternal frosts and snows of the 
Polar regions. The body of one justly honored 
man, Mr. Collins, with that of his mother, was 
placed on board of the Chicago, carried back 
to his native land, and now lies buried beneath 
the green sod of " dear old Ireland." After ex- 
changing United States money for British gold, 
my place was found on board of ship. 

On the afternoon of February 25th, with much 
confusion and bustle, the trundling of baggage, 
the hurrying of loaded teams on the pier, the 
swiftly driving cabs filled with passengers, the 
shouts of the policemen to preserve order, the 
impatient answers and sharp retorts of questioned 
officials and employes, the passengers and freight 
were on board, and the ship ready to sail. The 
proud flag of Great Britain and the loved flag of 
the United States were flying from different masts. 
There were hurried partings and affectionate fare- 

The cables were taken on board, the ponderous 
shafts of the mighty engine began to move, the 


quivering, instant response of the vessel was felt, 
and the stately ship of 6,000 tons' burden swung- 
from her moorings, and amid the cheers of the 
assembled hundreds on the pier and the an- 
swerino- shouts of those on deck, the waving of 
handkerchiefs and the oft expressed wish for a 
bo7i voyage, she steamed down the harbor, past 
Forts Lafayette and Hamilton, past the Quaran- 
tine, and soon friends and streaming banners and 
lofty city spires faded from our view. 

The journey had commenced, and I was now 
to wander for months, by land and by sea, over 
the earth ; to travel extensively in Ireland, Scot- 
land, England, Belgium, Germany, Switzerland, 
and France ; was to inspect places of world-wide 
interest, visit famous cathedrals and historic cities, 
to be on mighty battle-fields where struggling 
armies had decided the destinies of empires, 
muse by the graves of despots whose names lin- 
ger not in one grateful memory, but who like the 
Genius of Evil stalked through the world, and at 
whose decease humanity uttered exclamations of 
joy and songs of thanksgiving ; was also to linger 
by the tombs of those whose lives were radiant 
with good to their fellows, and whose names and 
deeds will be revered so long as human hearts 
love all that is lovely and of good report. 

Beautiful rivers, lovely lakes, green valleys, and 
the glacier-crowned Alps, with Mont Blanc's lofty 
head wreathed with its diadem of eternal white- 


ness, and piercing- the skies, were to become fa- 
miliar friends. Gentle reader, please accompany 
me in these wanderings, go with me step by step, 
while the places of travel are visited. 

When the pilot was dismissed, the vessel 
started upon its 3000 miles of ocean travel, was 
soon out of sight of land, and the next earth to 
greet the eyes of her passengers would be that 
of the Emerald Isle. The "Landlubbers' song" 
could be sung, 

" As we ploughed the furrowed sea." 

* * * 

" Hurrah for the ship ! Hurrah for her crew ! 
Merry, merry boys are we ; 
And our course is pressed for the Irish coast 
As we rise on the yeasty sea." 

We were now in a wilderness of waters. The 
heaving, jumping, tossing, white-capped billows 
were upon every side. Our only companions 
were the sea-gulls with their dark-tipped wings, 
which followed in the wake of the vessel, or cir- 
cled in the air around us, or rested themselves 
upon the surface of the sea. They are faith- 
ful companions, and often follow ships from shore 
to shore. 

The singers little knew of that of which they 
sang. The jubilant songs of most, when stepping 
on shipboard, are turned to woful lamentations 
before two days out from land. Sea-sickness, the 
monster destroyer of the happiness of ocean tran- 
sit, comes to most travellers, and sticks more 


closely than the dearest friend. Most of the pas- 
sengers, however, rallied after three days of illness, 
myself among the number. 

The ocean voyage, loved by few, and dreaded 
by most as a painful experience, passed rather 
pleasantly. I did not dread it, and should no 
more hesitate to step into a first class steamer 
for Europe, than to board the cars for New York 
or Chicago. 

Favoring winds cheered us on the way. The 
steamer's sails were set, and caught the stiffening 
breezes. The mighty engines kept up their cease- 
less action ; and the ship was propelled over the 
dark waters at an average of more than three hun- 
dred miles daily. The weather, as a rule, was 
favorable. The mornings often broke upon us 
clear and bright. The sun, rising in the intensity 
of its brightness from the bosom of the ocean, 
ushered in days cool, yet clear and delightful. 
Much of the time was spent on deck, promenad- 
ing, talking, reading, and playing games. 

The nights seemed long, and little could be 
heard save the perpetual sad moaning of the sea, 
the hurrying feet on deck, and the melancholy 
refrain of the sailors' songs when unreefing the 
sails. The monotony of the ocean voyage is one 
of its worst features. One tires of the everlast- 
ing expanse of waters ; of the deep blue above, 
the blue deep beneath and around. One is sur- 
rounded by the billows, ceaseless in their mo- 


tion, and destitute of all signs of animate life, save 
occasionally a spouting whale, or thousands of por- 
poises which can be seen for miles around, or the 
dolphins at play, springing from the waters, look- 
ing beautiful with their changing colors. 

Our steamer was a floating palace. The table 
was the equal of the best hotel, and eating be- 
came one of the chief attractions and the principal 
occupation of the passengers. The three regular 
meals, interspersed with several lunches, kept 
those on board nearly as busy as a good friend 
of mine in Edinburgh, who nibbled away at his 
provisions and sipped his tea or coffee some eight 
times a day. Many of the gentlemen amused 
themselves and whiled away the time by playing 
poker, drinking champagne, and betting on the 
day's run of the steamer. Money frequently 
changed hands at such times. 

It may not be generally known, but there are 
ocean tramps, who live upon ocean steamers 
most of the time, passing to and fro over the At- 
lantic, whose business it is to gamble and bet, and 
thus rake into their own pockets the shekels of 
the foolish and unwary traveller. The wine bill 
of some of these, during a single voyage of ten 
days, would often be one hundred and fifty dollars. 

Three classes of passengers were on board, — 
cabin or first-class, intermediate or second-class, 
and the steerage. Cabin passengers fare sump- 
tuously every day. Every want is anticipated 

MR. JONES. 25 

and provided for. The intermediate live as they 
do in corporation boarding-houses in our manu- 
facturing cities, while the steerage passengers are 
huddled together in close quarters, and there is 
nothing to brighten or cheer their hard and dis- 
agreeable lot. There is little or no communica- 
tion between the different classes. 

The cabin guests soon became like members of 
one great family, and employed themselves accord- 
ing to their several tastes, and there was always 
more or less sport among them. Among us were 
three young ladies from Boston or vicinity, going 
to teach in the seminaries at Stellenbosch, Wel- 
lington, and Worcester, near Cape Town, South 
Africa; four clergymen, — two from Philadelphia 
and two from Baltimore, — going to the Holy Land, 
one of whom I met months later in the Parliament 
House, London ; merchants, going abroad for a 
few weeks on business ; many commercial trav- 
ellers ; and some tourists, like myself. One of 
the quaintest, most original characters on board 
was Mr. Jones, a native of Wales, a resident in 
Texas, and a rancher by occupation. He had 
been in Texas but a few years, and had accumu- 
lated considerable property. A marked and pe- 
culiar character was our tourist. His speech and 
dress and looks were peculiar. He wore a broad- 
brimmed brown felt hat with a light band about it, 
and sported a heavy cane of odd shape and pat- 
tern, which attracted considerable attention. He 


was on deck early in the morning and late at 
night, and during the day, pacing with long, rap- 
id, swinging strides from end to end, so as to 
prevent being sea-sick, and was successful. Mr. 
Jones was not an educated man, was not partic- 
ularly intelligent on general topics, but he had 
good, strong common-sense, and always kept his 
weather eye open. Often had he been the 
butt for considerable merriment amono- some of 
those whose manner of dress and appearance 
generally were more in harmony with the accepted 
pattern. He was evidently afraid of some ocean 
disaster, and the mirthful ones played upon his 
fears by telling him that the purser had seized a 
man who was on the point of blowing up the ship 
with dynamite. After a severe storm, they said 
that Jones was so much agitated that he had clan- 
destinely stowed away twenty-seven life-preserv- 
ers in his state-room, ready for an emergency. 

Mr. Jones heard and knew it all, kept quiet, 
and bided his time. It came at last. He had 
refused continually to join these men in their cups 
and games. One day, after many invitations, 
he united his fortunes with theirs in the smok- 
ing-room. Money was planked upon the table, 
and the game began. The excitement increased 
as the game progressed; champagne and claret 
flowed freely; but the Texan, cool, collected, swept 
the boards, and gathered the shekels of his tor- 
mentors into his own pocket. From that moment 


he commanded their respect, and also won ducats 
enough to pay his expenses across the ocean. 

We were now in the midst of the broad Atlantic. 
Our fleet, loyal companions, the sea-gulls, still bore 
us company. The ponderous shafts of the ship's 
engines kept up their ceaseless motion, hour after 
hour, day after day, without a moment's rest since 
we left New York harbor. In the far distance a 
sail would occasionally be seen, causing a breeze 
of excitement ; and the passengers were all on 
deck when we met a steamer of the "White Star 
Line," bound from Antwerp to New York, and 
signals were exchanged. There was much enthu- 
siasm among the passengers of the two ships, and 
wavino- of handkerchiefs. 

To me, one of the grandest sights on earth 
is the ocean in a storm. I had stood upon the 
shore with the winds blowing from an angry sea, 
and the waves lashing themselves in foam against 
rocky cliffs, and enjoyed beyond expression the 
grandeur of the scene ; but it had never been my 
lot to be upon the ocean when the thunders 
crashed, when lightnings flashed, and the waves 
ran high. That joy was to come. The scene 
was vivid, and will be a memory till life's close. 
The morning was bright and sunny, but in the 
afternoon the sky was overspread with dark, 
threateninpf clouds. The ocean became rouo-h 
and choppy. Darkness increased, and the low 
mutterings in the distance proclaimed the vio- 


lence of the coming storm. In the night it 
burst upon us in all its fury. Rain fell in tor- 
rents. At 3 A. M, a long shrill whistle was heard, 
and the tramp of hurrying feet on deck. It was 
the call for the sailors to go aloft and reef the 
sails. Then those sons of the sea, in the pitchy 
darkness only as it was relieved by the lights 
upon the ship, in the blinding rain, climbed the 
dizzy height, went out upon yard-arms, and 
reefed the sails. The storm increased : our great, 
staunch, heavily laden ship was tossed about like 
a cork upon the waters. It was now up upon 
a wave, now down in the trough of the sea, 
now sidewise as with a quivering motion it would 
dip its side, a great sea would strike it and vast 
volumes roll over the hurricane deck. Running 
high was the sea, but the good ship sped on its 
way in the darkness, over tempestuous billows, 
enveloped with water and spray, as it was smitten 
with the storm and heavy seas. The blackness of 
the night, the sad moaning of the ocean, the roar- 
ing of the storm, the falling rain, the howling of 
the wind through the vessel's rio-Sfinof, and the 
occasional flashes of lightning, united in making 
the scene one of terrific grandeur, and an experi- 
ence to be remembered always. 

" I stood in the night's great darkness, 
And heard the calling sea : 
Ever and ever 't was speaking 
Out of its heart to me." 

The night passed away, so did the storm, and 


as upon the Galilean sea, calm was upon the 
troubled waters. 

On the Sabbath the crew in different parts of 
the ship were reviewed by the captain. Reli- 
gious services of the Church of England were 
holden in the cabin at lo a. m., attended by the 
crew and most of the passengers, and conducted 
by the captain, the oldest officer and admiral of 
this steamship line. He was a fine, courteous 
gentleman, modest, unassuming, and as brave an 
officer as ever trod the deck of a ship. He had 
followed the seas more than fifty years, and had 
crossed the ocean several hundred times. This 
was a British vessel, commanded by British offi- 
cers, manned by a British crew, sailing under the 
British flag; but the passengers were largely 
Americans. In the prayers read for those in 
authority, the name of the President of the Uni- 
ted States was coupled with that of the Queen of 
Great Britain. The captain made interesting 
remarks in behalf of the Home for the children 
of sailors lost at sea, and for which a collection 
was taken. 

Days with their monotony passed away, and on 
Thursday, March 6, after a stiff breeze and heavy 
storms for two days, it was apparent that we were 
nearing land. Soundings were taken, and water 
was found to be 150 fathoms deep. This was a 
perilous part of the journey. Captain and officers 
were upon the bridge, the whistles were kept 


continually blowing, and the ship moved cau- 
tiously and slowly through the fog and wind and 
rain. At 2 p. m. a shout was heard, " Land in 
sight!" and through the thick fog and mist, 

" O'er the wild waves appearing, 
We saw the green hills of Old Erin." 

These were upon the southern coast of Ireland, 
and were welcomed with joy, as all were glad to 
behold land once again. 

On Thursday, March 6, at 2 : 30 p. m., we pass- 
ed Fastenet Light, and signals were exchanged. 
It was said that in fifteen minutes it would be 
known in New York that the City of Chicago 
had passed that point, and that the afternoon 
papers of that place, more than three thousand 
miles away, would inform their readers that it 
had crossed the great ferry in safety. This 
Light, a circular shaft of considerable height, 
is a vigilant, constant sentinel on a dangerous, 
rock -bound coast. It stands two or three miles 
from the main land, upon a bold, black, jagged, 
precipitous ledge of rock, of sloping and perpen- 
dicular sides. Against the many broken frag- 
ments of ledge at its base the water in a high 
sea is dashed with the greatest fury, throwing 
huge volumes of white waves and spray high into 
the air. 

So were passed many interesting points. The 
sloping hillsides were distinctly visible with their 
scattered habitations. Many ships were now 


about us. Darkness cast its black mantle over 
the earth as we entered the beautiful sheltered 
harbor of Queenstown. It is one of the best and 
most lovely in the world. High hills surround 
it, and their steep sides, from the edge of the 
water to their summits, are covered with pleasant 
homes, which on this dark evening were lit up by 
thousands of lights, which shed bright, cheerful 
gleams over the calm waters of the bay. The 
tug-boat came to us, bearing the mayor of Cork 
and other officials to receive the bodies of Mr. Col- 
Hns and his mother, and give them proper honor 
and burial. After bidding my ship companions 
farewell, for most went to Liverpool, I landed at 

"A passage perilous maketh a port pleasant." 

It cost me several dollars to run the gauntlet of 
the servants before I left the vessel. All had to 
be "tipped," from the steward to the boot-black; 
and this was but the commencement of my sor- 
rows in this respect on the other side of the 
Atlantic. I passed the customs with no difficulty, 
and was thankful to be once more on solid land, 
after ten days of perpetual sea, ten days of being 
" Rocked in the cradle of the deep," ten days of 
"A life on the ocean wave," which was quite 
enough for me. 



I^UEENSTOWN is an interesting city, built 
upon the Island of Saints. I climbed the 
steep ascent to the cathedral, from which is a full 
view of the harbor and bay. Spike island lies 
opposite, with its forts and troops, and over them 
all was proudly floating the flag of Great Britain. 

Everything seemed strange, and the manner of 
doino- thines was different from ours. Much of the 
jobbing and teaming is done by small boys, with 
donkeys hitched to clumsy two-wheeled carts with 
shafts which protrude several feet in the rear, the 
driver always sitting upon the right shaft. 

I was going northward, and wished to check my 
baggage through to a main point. The officers 
never give checks, and it cannot be done. In the 
United States, if a party is journeying from Bos- 
ton to Chicago, Omaha, or San Francisco, he can 
check his baggage to those points, take his little 
brass plate, with its number, and days afterward, 
by calling at the proper station and presenting it, 
his baggage is turned over to him, and he is not 
annoyed by any care of his luggage during the 
long journey. This, and many conveniences per- 


fectly familiar to Americans, are wholly unknown 
in the British isles. There is nothing in their 
system like ours, and an American misses pain- 
fully the home comforts of travelling", and is an- 
noyed and indignant at the conservatism he 
meets upon the other side. The care and respon- 
sibility for the transportation of one's property 
rests entirely with the traveller. A porter ap- 
proaches you : you tell him where you are go- 
ing : he places your luggage upon a truck, sees 
that a printed paper with the place of your des- 
tination printed upon it is pasted upon the trunk, 
deposits it in the luggage van or compartment 
of the carriage in which one is to ride. A tip 
compensates the porter, whose great deference 
awakens one's suspicions that he has been unnec- 
essarily liberal. The servants abroad are, as a 
rule, honest, trusty, obliging, and faithful, but 
their air of servility is anything but pleasing to 
an American ; and the idea of having to watch 
and look after one's baggage, in a journey through 
a foreign land, is perfectly ridiculous. When you 
arrive in a large city, the terminus of any of the 
great railways of Great Britain, the baggage is 
put carefully upon the platform as soon as the 
train stops, and each traveller picks out his own. 
There is nothing, except his own promptness and 
attention to business, to prevent another from 
claiming and carrying it off. It is fortunate that 
the people there are honest. I never knew of any 


baggage being stolen or lost by this reprehensible 
style of doing things, or not doing them. One 
cannot help thinking what a harvest some ex- 
pert railroad thief of the West could reap in Great 
Britain ! Yet this whole method of public con- 
veyance is so at enmity with our ideas of protec- 
tion, comfort, and convenience, that it fills one 
with indignation for the conservatism of their rail- 
road officials, and the annoyances of their primi- 
tive system of travelling. This was another of the 
unpleasant things incident to foreign travel. 

Cork is twelve miles from Queenstown, and is 
reached by rail, or by boat "up the pleasant wa- 
ters of the river Lee." The sail on the river is 
enchanting. Its quiet loveliness, the green fields, 
the high and precipitous sides of the hill on which 
Queenstown is built, its sides covered with walks, 
drives, terraces with evergreen shrubbery, and the 
whole, dotted with beautiful homes, makes the 
way delightful. We passed many points of great 
beauty before reaching Cork, each apparently 
excelling all others. On the passage I met the 
American consul at Oueenstown, and we went to 
Cork together. He is an agreeable gentleman, 
from Ohio. He tendered me courtesies which a 
lack of time compelled me to decline. 

Some people like Cork. I do not. To me it 
is far from being an interesting city. Like its 
name, which signifies a swamp, the business part 
is swampy, disagreeable, and repulsive. 



Here is St. Ann's, or Shandon, church, begun 
in 1722. It is a plain structure. The steeple, 
three sides of which are built of limestone, the 
fourth of red stone, is 120 feet high. The Shan- 
don bells are no more musical than many others, 
but Rev. Francis Mahoney has made them immor- 
tal. By his sweet lines he has thrown around 
them a glamour, and made their music celebrated 
the world over. He says, — 

" With deep affection 
And recollection 
I often think on 
Those Shandon bells, 
Whose sound so wild would, 
In the days of childhood, 
Fling round my cradle 
Their magic spells." 

I hastened on to Blarney casde, five miles 
from Cork, a place renowned in history, legend, 
and song. It was 
built in the fifteenth 
century, and was 
anciently the home 
of the McCarthys, 
whose immense pos- 
sessions were confis- 
cated in the troubled 
period of 1689. I^ 
is one of the most 

picturesque ruins in 

T 1 J T^u r. Blarney Castle. 

Ireland. Ihe mas- 
sive tower rises 120 feet in height, and, with walls 


eight or ten feet in thickness, is very sohd and 
enduring, with a lower portion of less substantial 
proportions. The guide showed me in, and ex- 
plained the different parts. I ascended to its 
summit, and looked over its outer wall. In the 
clear light of that bright day I could see the coun- 
try for miles around. It was the 7th of March, 
and the fertile fields were as green as they are 
in New England in June. At the base of the cas- 
tle a river runs through the rich lowlands. Sit- 
ting on the summit, I wrote several postals to 
friends on this side of the sea. It was a sunny 
afternoon. The rooks, or jack-daws, which are 
very abundant and flew in great numbers about 
me, were quite tame, and made the air resonant 
with their voices. The ruins are thickly covered 
with the Irish ivy. The Blarney stone, of world- 
wide celebrity, which imparts to the one who kisses 
it the persuasive gift of eloquence, was inspected 
and saluted by me, but not kissed. The opera- 
tion was considered too hazardous, as one must 
be lowered by his heels from a dizzy height in or- 
der to do it. 

The Groves of Blarney are justly celebrated. 
The trees are abundant, tall and stately, and their 
large trunks are green with moss, or covered with 
the clinging, dark green tendrils of the Irish ivy. 
The flowers "That spontaneous grow there" are 
sweet and abundant. The moss-covered walks 
yield like a carpet beneath one's tread. The 



underlying basis of the earth is of a hmestone 
formation, in which are the caves. I went 
through them, explored the dungeons of the 
casde, wandered through the far-famed groves, 
saw the charming waters, and was delighted with 
it all. 

At night I reached the Lakes of Killarney, hav- 
ing passed through some of the most mountain- 
ous sections of the county of Kerry. The coun- 
try is very poor, large sections are mountainous, 
or swampy, and hundreds of acres are mere peat 
bogs. In some parts are great piles of rocks and 
stone walls, like what we see in New England. 

I registered at the Railway hotel. It was a 
fine house under excellent management. The 
grounds are laid out artistically, with gravelled 
walks, beds of flowers, and trees of rare quality 
and kind. There is much to please the eye and 
gratify one's love for the beautiful. 

Ireland is well termed the Emerald Isle. In 
the southern sections, everything seemed to be 
green, from the grass to the trunks of the trees 
and the picket fences. This was the appearance 
of things at Killarney. 

The morning after my arrival was cool, clear, 
and bright. The high mountains of Kerry were 
white with snow, and looked bleak and wintry in 
the distance. Killarney has 5,000 inhabitants, 
has long, straggling streets, "and smells to heav- 
en." Its people drink a vast amount " of the 



dark beverage of hell." and this, with the rapa- 
ciousness of landlords, keeps them exceedingly 

Taking a guide and an Irish jaunting-car, we 

Jl started for an inspection of the 

j^i^^^T^ lakes. Passing out of the village, 

^1^^^^^^ past the habitations of the poor, 

"^^^^^^^^ past the fine estates of wealthy 

Jaunting Car. landlords, with their parks for 

game, and houses of the game-keepers, past 

groves, finely laid out fields, and palatial homes, 

we rode for miles on the highway, where the 

mortar-faced walls at the sides are from five to ten 

feet hieh. and are so solid and well constructed 

that almost literally nothing of the beauties and 

luxuriance of the enclosed lands can catch the eye 

of the poor inhabitants or of the tourist. Truly 

the landlords of Ireland have deprived the people 

of everything except poverty, and of that there is 

an abundance. 

The ereat estates here are those of the Earl 
of Kenmare and of Vix. Herbert. Everything 
indicates the British spirit of exclusiveness. The 
high walls shut the proprietors in, and shut every 
one else out. The contrast between w^hat is with- 
in and what is without is great. Wealth, elegant 
mansions, magnificent domains, with greenness 
and fertility, are shut in : without is poverty, 
wretchedness, and misery, in the domiciles of the 
people. The people are mostly tenants at will, 



and have very little motive to work. Though 
the Earl of Kenmare and other landlords may 
have thousands of acres for game, yet an Irish 
laborer, though he were a saint on earth, could 
not buy an inch of land. The game fares well, 
but the people may starve. Thus it is in Ireland. 
Everything for the few, woe for the many. God 
speed the day when this wicked, cruel system 
may be broken up ! 

Two miles from Killarney we entered the mag- 
nificent estate of J\Ir. Herbert, M. P. for County 
Kerry. As one passes towards the lake he will 
observe on a knoll, and among the trees, a pictur- 
esque and charm- 
ing ruin. It is the 
Abbey of Muck- 
ross. Founded in 
1440, repaired in 
1602, it consisted 
of an abbey and 
church. The clois- 
ters belonging to 
the abbey are in 
the form of a piazza surrounding a large court- 
yard, nearly square, in the centre of which is a 
yew tree of large proportions. Many of the 
rooms are in fair preser\'ation. A church-yard is 
there, where are many old and new stones bearing 
illustrious names. There silently sleep some of 
the O'Sullivans, McCarthys, and Herberts. The 


old bramble-covered yard is paved with tomb- 
stones of those who died long ago. A graveyard 
is one of the most interesting places in the world 
to visit. People always go there. Do they de- 
rive an unconscious pleasure from the thought 
that sometime they will rest there ? I wandered 
among these graves, so near the roofless old 
abbey, and read the inscriptions upon the 
stones, and mused of those who rested so quietly 
beneath the grass and brambles. 

Diverging from the abbey in various directions 
are the broad avenues which led to it, still in 
splendid condition, green with luxuriant grass, 

and shaded by old 
and stately trees. The 
mansion of the pres- 
ent Mr. Herbert is 
built of light stone, and 
for situation and state- 
liness of structure can 
hardly be surpassed. We took a tour of the 
lakes over a fine hard road, saw the lofty moun- 
tains about whose summits hung the drifting 
clouds. The Eagle's Nest rears its head seven 
hundred feet above the waters. I went to the 
connecting link of the two lakes, called the 
" Meeting of the Waters." Tom Moore's lines 
come to me : 

" There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet 
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet." 


I do not .like landlordism, as it exists in Great 
Britain to-day, nor the laws by which it is bol- 
stered up. The system is doomed to destruc- 
tion at no distant time, and may a bloodless 
revolution speedily accomplish this result. It is 
a serious offence for one to cut so much as a 
walking-stick on the domains of the landlords. 
I rejoice in saying that I violated the precious 
and divine rights of a landlord by cutting and 
carrying through Europe, and finally to my home 
in New Hampshire^ a stick of arbutus, which I 
now have, as a cane. If this sketch should ever 
meet the eye of Mr. Herbert, it might afford 
him some gratification to know that I cut it 
upon his land, and that it is a good specimen. 
After committing this heinous offence, I inspected 
the antiquated structure called the " Old Wier 
bridge," and also Cromwell's bridge, Cromwell 
was a plain, blunt, outspoken man. He said what 
he meant, and enforced rigidly what he said. He 
was a progressive man, and believed in adopting 
all the improvements of the age in which he lived. 
He had no charity for stupidity, nor any sympathy 
for the thriftless manner of doing things, or, rath- 
er, of not doing them, in Ireland. When he was 
at Killarney, he was greatly annoyed because there 
was no bridge at a certain point. He did not like 
the plan of having to wade through deep waters, 
when a bridge would enable his army, with artil- 
lery, to pass such a point with ease and comfort. 


So he told the Irish to build a bridge — to build it 
quick, and build it strong; and as a clincher to 
his command, he said if it was not completed when 
he returned he would hang an Irishman for every 
hour he was delayed. They knew he would keep 
his word, and the bridge was built. Would that 
there were many Cromwells in Great Britain to- 
day, to strike the spirit of progress into its peo- 
ple ! 

Saturday is a weekly market-day at Killarney, 
and the railroads carry at reduced rates great num- 
bers of people who flock into the city. Hundreds 
came by trains, bringing what produce they could 
carry, and after disposing of it, getting goods 
for family use, getting liquor and getting drunk, 
and cursing the British government, they took the 
cars for their homes. Many hundreds more came 
into the city with little donkey carts, carrying loads 
of hay, straw, or any kind of produce they wished 
to sell. They congregated in the market-place, 
and sold before the going down of the sun. Saun- 
tering through it and among the people, I was able 
to appreciate the situation. I had seen one side 
of the picture, — the domains of the wealthy, and 
their peaceful, lovely homes, where no want ap- 
peared to be unsupplied : here was the other 

I went among the Irish cabins, such as the ma- 
jority of the native Irish live in throughout Ire- 
land. They are, as a rule, some fifteen feet in 


leneth and ten feet wide, built in a loose manner 
of cobble-stone, and many times without mortar. 
Some have a pane of glass for a window, and some 
do not, and the whole is covered with a roof of 
thatch. The cold ground is the only floor, and 
their only fire is made of peat. I entered them, 
cold, narrow, and cheerless as they were, and have 
seen the wife and mother, scantily clothed in rags, 
trying to cook over the peat fire, and the numer- 
ous children huddling about her with their knees 
protruding from ragged trousers, and their little 
bare feet red, aching, and sore from the cold. A 
broken bench or stool answered for a chair. The 
homes are the abodes of filth, squalor, and unhap- 
piness. Such homes as these are plentiful in Kil- 
larney, and worse ones are in many other places. 
On the south-west coast, the families, with hogs 
and other animals, share the same miserable hut. 
Such are not exceptional cases : there are multi- 
tudes of them. The poverty and wretchedness 
seen upon every side in this fair land awaken 
very deeply one's sympathies, and make him sad 
and sick at heart. Hon. Arthur Livermore, U. S. 
consul at Londonderry, told me of a very pathetic 
scene which he witnessed. He was called upon 
to take the affidavit of a man who was upon his 
death-bed. He went to the home of the party — 
such a home as I have described. There were 
two apartments. The dying man was in the 
smaller one, some five feet in width, totally dark, 


there being' no window, and the darkness only 
reheved when the attending- daughter entered 
with her flickering Hght. He was lying upon a 
bed, if such it could be called, made by sticking 
rude poles into the stone walls, over which was 
thrown some loose straw. There was hardly room 
for one to stand between his couch and the wall. 
Mr. Livermore talked with him, and took his affi- 
davit, when the sick man called for water. It 
was brought by the faithful daughter, when the 
dying man devoutly thanked God for all the 
blessings and comforts granted him upon his 
death-bed ! 

I was the guest of a Protestant gentleman, and 
was shown over his estate. He had many ten- 
ants, and had built for them comfortable homes. 
It was a cold day, and the drizzling rain was 
falling. Noticing several women picking stones 
in the field, I asked my attendant if this was 
a common occurrence, and what wages the women 
received. Yes, he said, it was common. They 
did the housework, and the remainder of their 
time was spent upon the land. They received 
eight pence per day, with which to provide for 
their families and themselves. Americans would 
consider these hard lines! 

There are two classes of people in Ireland, — 
those who are termed the native Irish, and those 
who are descendants of the Scotch and English 
colonists of about two hundred years ago, who 


are numerous in the north of Ireland. The two 
classes remain almost entirely distinct. 

The southern part and around Killarney is 
settled largely by the natives. I was still at that 
place, and wishing to see more of the poor Irish 
people, one sunny afternoon I took a third class 
railway carriage for Mallow, forty miles aw-ay. 
The car was a rude affair, but strong, substantial, 
and would be a comfortable conveyance for cattle. 
In European carriages one enters at the side, 
and each compartment contains two seats facing 
each other, running crosswise of the carriage, 
each coach usually having three compartments 
entirely distinct. Many of the third class car- 
riages in England and on the continent are good 
and comfortable, but these were of a different 
pattern. Very thick partitions, some four feet in 
height, divide the compartments. My desire to 
see the Irish was gratified. Into these carriages 
they came, old men and young men, old women 
and young women, boys and girls and children, 
with dogs and jugs and baskets and large bags, 
and every conceivable thing from the market. 
Many were partially intoxicated, and there was 
drinking and smoking and chewing, loud talking, 
swearing, drunken laughter, and almost fighting. 
A rougher, beastlier crowd I never saw. They 
favored me with their society for eight miles, 
before we reached the station where many 
alighted. The guard, as conductors are called in 


Europe, examined our tickets before starting, and, 
by an absurd custom in Europe, a passenger 
must then look out for himself till the next 
station is reached. He might be murdered and 
his body thrown from the train, and the guard 
would not know it. 

We passed many of the litde stone, thatch- 
roofed cottages of the poor. They are covered 
usually with a thick layer of rye straw, which lasts 
four years, when another layer will be added, until 
the thatch is often more than two feet in thick- 
ness. We passed other habitations, those of a 
better class, w^ith comfortable homes. These 
were farmers, who cultivated their farms or sub- 
rented to others. Birds are there considered the 
friends of man, are protected and quite tame. 
The trees about many homes were black with 
rooks and rookery nests. At length most of my 
travelling companions departed. Darkness fol- 
lowed the daylight, and the stars twinkled brightly 
over the sky-piercing summits of the mountains 
of Kerry. 

At Mallow I registered at the Railway hotel, 
where everything was made pleasant for me 
by the genial and courteous landlord, who showed 
me a book of Irish pedigrees by a gentleman of 
Dublin with whom I once corresponded. The 
author had traced many Irish families back to 
Noah without a missing link. In this age of 
accurate scholarship, where nothing is accepted 


without strongest evidence, it was startling to 
find many of the earlier generations without a 
date of birth or death of the individual given to 
substantiate the bold statement of the person's 
existence. Statements unsupported by evidence 
is a glaring fault in some Irish works. 

This town is nicely situated on the Blackwater 
river. The houses, like those of many cities in 
Ireland, are of stone, covered with mortar of 
a light brown color mixed with coarse gravel 
stones, which makes them warm, tight, and inex- 
pensive. The streets are narrow, with narrower 
lanes where the poorer classes live, in such 
houses as have been described. These cities are 
far from attractive to an American. 

The route to Dublin lay north of Kilkenny, so 
famous for its cats. This is told as evidence of 
Irish wit. Several persons were drinking, when 
one by the name of Kenny took a glass of whis- 
key and began to drink. Unfortunately a piece 
of the cork had gone into the tumbler, and from 
the tumbler into his throat, where it stuck and 
nearly strangled him, when a comrade said, " Sure 
that is not the way to Cork !" "I know it," said 
the half-strangled Celt, "but its the way to kill 
Kenny." A ride of six hours landed me in Dub- 
lin". The journey was plecisant, through rare 
scenery, abounding with historic associations and 
remains of monuments, which mark a romantic 
and buried past. Ireland is full of such. 


The " Devil's bit" is a cut in the mountains as 
sharp and distinct as if made by man. The story 
runs, that the devil with his imps was out for 
exercise one bright morning, when one of the 
saints passed that way, and in true Irish style 
raised his cane and struck the devil a fearful 
blow on the side of his head, when the latter 
in anger and agony bit out the great gap in the 
mountain, depositing it on the plain ten miles 
away, which is now the celebrated " Rock of 
Cashel." They are the most remarkable ruins in 
Ireland, and there was the home of the ancient 
kings of Munster, The most ancient are the Chap- 
el and the " Round Tower." The latter is ninety 
feet high, built of light sandstone, and around 
it were erected church edifices, now in ruins. 
These towers are numerous. When they were 
built and for what purpose is not known, as they 
antedate veritable history. They were probably 
erected for religious purposes connected with the 
pagan rites of the early residents of Ireland. The 
fathers of the Catholic church founded their abbeys 
and monasteries about them, which is one evi- 
dence that they first had a religious significance, 
and that the promoters of the new faith wisely 
grafted it upon the ancient stalk, thus following 
St. Paul in not shocking the prejudices of those 
they would lead to a purer faith. 

The first round tower which met my view was 
at Clondalkin, six miles from Dublin. It stands in 



the midst of a pretty village, is eio-hty-six feet in 
height, with a conical top such as they all have, 
and can be ascended from the inside by ladders. 
We passed Phenix park with its varied attractions 
in wooded vale and upland scene, and 
that ponderous, ungainly work of man, 
the monument to the Duke of Welling- 
ton, which has since been removed, I 
believe. The train whirled into the sta- 
tion of the Great Southern and West- 
ern Railway, and landed me in 
the old city of Dublin. 

It is noted for its fast cabs ; 
and securing a jaunting-car, I 
was whirled at a rattling pace round tower. 
to the Gresham hotel. Dublin's general appear- 
ance is that of a solid, substantial city, one of the 
past rather than of the present or the future. It 
has 250,000 inhabitants, but is not a live place like 
Belfast. The river Liftey runs through the centre 
of the town, and is spanned by numerous bridges. 
The old castle, or Dublin castle, whose name 
has so much political significance in these troub- 
lous days, is not imposing, and has nothing of the 
stateliness of Sterling or Edinburgh castle. 

The most important public buildings are the 
old parliament house, now the Bank of Ireland, 
Trinity college, founded long ago, the general 
post-office, custom-house, and the "Four Courts," 
which will be alluded to more particularly in an- 


Other place. Nelson's monument is a fluted col- 
umn, 12 1 feet in height. From its top can be 
seen the Wicklow mountains on the south, the 
plains of Meath and Kildare on the west; and to 
the eastward is Dublin bay and the stretching sea. 
In no other city did I see so many small statues. 
Through one of the main streets, at regular dis- 
tances, were statues of public men. There were 
a large number of them, and they added greatly 
to a stranger's interest in the broad, sweeping 
avenue of the most famous city of Ireland. 

Phenix park is the "Central park" of Dublin, 
and occupies 1,760 acres of land. I took a jaunt- 
ing-car, and drove over the city as well as the 
park. The drives and walks are fine indeed, lead- 
ing through many points of artificial or natural 
beauty. Hundreds of deer were grazing quietly, 
and were undisturbed by the multitude of visitors 
who continually thronged the grounds. The resi- 
dence of the lord lieutenant of Ireland is upon 
the border of the park. A melancholy interest 
attaches to a spot on the main avenue, where 
some years ago Burke and Cavendish, the high- 
est officials of Ireland, were foully assassinated at 
10 o'clock at night, when returning to their homes. 
This spot is seen by every visitor. 

When in Dublin, I spent several days in the 
Public Record's office, and consulted the war 
rolls of the soldiers of 1649 and other years. 
They are a curiosity, written upon parchment. 


rolled into great rolls nearly a foot in diameter, 
and very heavy. My experience there is a 
good illustration of the way the British officials 
wait upon and accommodate the people. It is 
quite a task to find one's way in that labyrin- 
thine building to the proper office. Reaching 
there at last, I wished for paper on which to make 
notes, but these officials would neither sell nor 
give me any, as it was against the rules. I was 
forced to go out upon the street, and after much 
searching, found some stationery. The writing 
is in the old court hand, elegant, yet almost 
impossible for an amateur to read. Upon asking 
one of the employes if he would read the names 
of those mentioned in a document under exami- 
nation, which was only the work of a minute, he 
declined. I told him he would be paid for his 
trouble, but he would not ; it was against the 
rules. He would copy the will for me. To copy 
that long document would cost several dollars. I 
declined to have it transcribed. They charge twen- 
ty-five cents for every will or other paper, or book, 
consulted. One is not permitted to use pen and 
ink in makino- notes. The officials are p-lad to 
get one's money without giving an equivalent. 
The whole system, — the rules, the officials, and 
the stupid, arbitrary government back of all, — are 
enough to drive an American insane. The peo- 
ple are legitimate plunder for the government and 
its officials, and they gladly plunder them every 


In the "Index Nominum to the Inrollments of 
Adjudications in Favor of the [1649] Officers, 
Preserved in Office of the Chief Remembrancer 
of the Exchequer, Dubhn," were found the fol- 
lowing- familiar Scotch names amongf the officers 
mentioned. Often there were several of the same 
surname, but only one of each is here given. 
All of these had property left them : Robert 
Armstrong, William Bell, Nathaniel Boyce, Lieut. 
Adam Boyd, Lieut. Hugh Browne, Daniel Camp- 
bell, John Carr, Lieut. Col. Hugh Cochrane, 
Thomas Fisher, Arthur Graham, John Gregg, 
Thomas Holmes, William Hopkins, John Hughes, 
William Johnston, Alexander Kinkead, James 
Mac Adams, Hugh Montgomery, Henry Patten, 
Alexander Stuart, Thomas Sympson, John Vance, 
Thomas Wallace, Ensign James Waugh, James 
Wilson, and many others. 

The "Four Courts" is an immense edifice. The 
officials are not agreeable. They would give no 
assistance whatever, and would not be tolerated 
in American offices. I was thankful when my task 
was through, for it had not been a pleasant one. 



" Founded and fostered upon a rock, 
Safe it will be from storm and shock : 
Winds may blow from an angry sea, 
Steadfast through all it will ever be." 

fHE "old, old story" of the siege of London- 
derry need not be rehearsed here. Most 
are familiar with the tale of woe ; have read of 
the ereat heroism 
displayed by the de- 
fenders, of their en- 
durance and con- 
stancy amid suffer- 
ing, and of their final 
triumph, when the 
city was delivered 
July 30, 1689, which 
was the triumph of 
the Protestant cause 

and of William the Londonderry, Ireland. 

Prince of Orange. These events have been most 
graphically delineated by Macaulay in his History 
of England. 


The ancestors of many of the people in the 
Scotch settlement where my life has been mainly 
spent were at the siege, and participants in the 
stirring scenes of 1688-89, and afterwards settled 
in New Hampshire. My ancestors, of Scotch 
blood, who went from Scotland to Ireland about 
that time, and lived at Aghadowey, near Coleraine, 
were gathered in with many other Protestants, 
and driven beneath the city's walls by the cruel 
order of the French general, Conrad de Rosen, 
and were thus exposed to the missiles of the 
besieged and the besiegers. They were finally 
admitted within the city, and after enduring the 
sufferings, also shared the joy of the final triumph. 
They lived in the county of Londonderry, with 
their pastor. Rev. James McGregor, in the parish 
of Aghadowey, till 17 18, when the pastor and a 
portion of his flock, among them my ancestors, 
emigrated, and settled in Londonderry, N. H. It 
was not known on this side of the sea from what 
place the Rev. James McGregor and his people 
came, till my investigations revealed it. It was 
said they came from Londonderry. That is cor- 
rect, but it was the county and not the city of 
Londonderry. They came from the parish of 
Aghadowey, some forty miles away, where he was 
pastor from 1 701-17 18, when he and a portion of 
his flock emigrated to New Hampshire. 

Traditions of the siege have come down to me 
from my ancestors who participated in it. I knew 


the history of it, and wanted to behold the locaHty. 
Six generations have passed away since the tri- 
umphant day, but in some hearts on this side of 
the Atlantic that event is not forgotten. I went 
and viewed the place, and stood upon the ancient 
ground. Before leaving Ulster I wished to see 
and meet persons who bore names which had been 
familiar in the new Ulster in New Hampshire. 
The Scotch names in New Hampshire are dupli- 
cated in Pennsylvania, West Virginia, North and 
South Carolina, and Georgia. These are familiar 
Scotch patronymics, well known in the New Eng- 
land settlement: Aiken, Alexander, Allison, An- 
derson, Archibald, Armour, Armstrong, Barnet, 
Bell, Boyd, Caldwell, Campbell, Clark, Clyde, 
Cochran, Davidson, Dickey, Dinsmoor, Gilmore, 
Gregg, Hemphill, Holmes, Hopkins, Hughes, 
Jameson, Johnston, Kinkead, Kyle, Mack, McCoy, 
McCleary, Mcllvaine, McGregor, McKeen, Mont- 
gomery, Morrison, Nesmith, Park, Patterson, 
Pinkerton, Rankin, Reid, Ritchey, Simpson, Smi- 
ley, Starrett, Steele, Stimson, Stuart, Templeton, 
Thom, Thompson, Todd, Vance, Wallace, Waugh, 
and others. 

The original name of Londonderry was Derry- 
Calgach, the " Oak-wood of Calgach," for Derry 
means "a place of oaks" or "thick wood;" Cal- 
gach signifies " a fierce warrior." After the tenth 
century it was called Derry-Columbkillc. When 
the city was chartered by King James I, it was 


called London-Derry, which name it has since 

My interesting travelling companion, a Mr. 
Hewitt, of Lifford, county Donegal, was a son 
of Lord Lifford. We travelled together to Lon- 
donderry. Unlike many Britons, he was not only 
intelligent, but was very communicative. Being 
familiar with the country and people, he made the 
journey pass very pleasantly. We were whirled 
along rapidly, and crossed the Boyne at Drogheda. 
A mile away was fought, July i, 1690, the famous 
battle of the Boyne, which established William 
Prince of Orange upon the throne of Great 
Britain. On the side of the prince were the 
ancestors of many who subsequently settled in the 
Scotch settlements of America. An obelisk one 
hundred and fifty feet high marks the spot where 
the battle commenced. 

We passed through the ancient town of Dun- 
dalk, once fortified but now with ruined walls, 
where the last king in Ireland was crowned and 
bore sway. After the decisive victory of Ban- 
nockburn had secured the freedom of Scotland, 
Edward, brother of Robert Bruce, was crowned 
king of Dundalk. Two years later, in 13 18, he 
was killed in a battle with the English. 

Picturesquely situated upon our route was 
Newry, described by Dean Swift as consisting 

" High church, low steeple, 
Dirty streets, and proud people." 


There was a fine view of the town, surrounded 
by towering hills. We journeyed through the 
counties of Louth, Armagh, Down, Tyrone, and 
touched Doneeal. Some sections throuo-h which 
we travelled were beautiful, romantic, mountain- 
ous, and full of historic interest and associations. 
Omagh, one of the memories of the 1688-89 
contest, was passed, and at length the waters of 
the river Foyle came in view, and at 2 p. m. we 
entered the world-famed town of Londonderry. 
It was with exceeding joy I stood upon the conse- 
crated ground. It seemed like getting home after 
a long journey, I was soon inside the walls and 
registered at the Imperial hotel, in the heart of 
the rare old city. 

Londonderry, Ireland, is in the county of the 
same name, and built on a hill which rises 119 
feet from the water. The river Foyle surrounds 
it upon three sides. The hill is covered with 
houses of various styles, and on the summit is 
the celebrated cathedral, with its lofty spire, 
where worshipped the Episcopalians and the 
Presbyterians at different hours of the day dur- 
ing the defence of the city in 1688-9. ^^ i^ ^^^^ 
most interesting town in Ireland, begirt with 
walls solid, stern, and picturesque as those of any 
ancient city. My impatience to see it was very 
great. In a brief time after my arrival I was 
inspecting the town. Passing through the Dia- 
mond, the central open square or market-place, to 


Ship Quay gate, and mounting the walls, I passed 
completely around the old city. They are some 
fourteen feet in height, and wide enough to drive 
two teams abreast. There were originally several 
gates, among them Ship Quay gate near the 
river. Bishop's at the opposite side of the town, 
New gate and Ferry gate at either side of the 
town. It was Ferry gate which the apprentice 
boys closed so suddenly, and thus prevented the 
entrance of King James's men, who had crossed 
the river for that purpose. This act committed 
the city to the fortunes of King William. The 
river has been drained away, its bed filled, and 
the whole is covered with buildings. Directly on 
the opposite side, near the New gate, is an ancient 
brick house, where once lived James Morrison, 
who is mentioned by Macaulay as standing upon 
the walls at the siege and calling to his comrades 
to "Bring a big gun!" when the Irish soldiers 
beneath him scampered away. It was my privilege 
to meet one of his descendants. Other gates 
have been added to the walls, which would afford 
only a slight protection to the enginery of mod- 
ern warfare. A very interesting object is Walker's 
Pillar, erected 1826-28, to perpetuate the mem- 
ory of the illustrious George Walker and other 
noble men who were active in the defence of the 
city. It is a handsome Doric column, surmounted 
by a statue. The first stone was laid December 
18, 1826, and completed August, 1828. It stands 


upon the walls overlooking a deep valley, and upon 
its base are inscribed the names of some of the 
city's brave defenders. After ascending the steps 
inside, one reaches the walk around the top, and 
has an excellent sight of the city and the country 
around. On the hill opposite was encamped the 
army of King James. A mile to the right is 
Magee college, and two miles away is the shallow 
part of the Foyle, where the sand-bars extend so 
far into the river that the enemy stretched across 
a boom to prevent ships with supplies from reach- 
ing the suffering people. The channel was nar- 
row, and the vessels going with great force against 
it, the boom broke and the city was saved. 

This place of 30,000 people has greatly out- 
grown its former limits, and the new portion is 
quite attractive. The old part is not pleasing, 
and only its rare historic associations make it of 
interest to the traveller. The town hall is un- 
interesting, and is not kept in order. The public 
libraries are primitive in their arrangement, the 
books old and antiquated. One valuable work of 
government surveys, illustrated with costly charts, 
contained maps of Londonderry in 1688 and 1788. 
The obliging attendant very kindly removed them 
from the book and gave them to me ! 

Wishing to consult the records of the ancient 
church, which were in the cathedral, and under 
the control of the Lord Bishop, it was necessary 
for me to call at the palace, when my card was 


sent in by the valet, and I was very cordially 
received by "My Lord" the Right Rev. William 
Alexander, D. D. 

He is an exceedingly genial man, simple as a 
child, with an open, kind, and benevolent counte- 
nance. He has brilliant attainments: is a clever 
writer of prose, and a poet of no mean order. As 
a speaker he is eloquent, possessing unbounded 
enthusiasm. He has a vivid imagination ; and his 
illustrations, drawn from extensive reading and 
kept ready for use by a retentive memory, are apt 
and poetical. Before the disestablishment of the 
Irish Episcopal church, in 1869, he held a seat in 
the British House of Lords. He is a Tory in 
politics, and a landlord in a small way; conse- 
quently he is not an admirer of the "grand old 
man," William E. Gladstone. Being an American, 
and supposed to be as ignorant of British politics 
as the average Briton is of American affairs, an 
excellent opportunity was presented for getting 
his views by asking him a few leading questions. 
His wife is the gifted poet, Mrs. Cecil F. Alexan- 
der, the writer of religious hymns sung in thou- 
sands of churches every Sunday, on each side of 
the Atlantic. She is the author of one of the 
sweetest, smoothest poems in the English tongue, 
which is known wherever the English language is 
spoken. It is "The Burial of Moses." 


"And he buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, over against Beth- 
peor, but no man knoweth the place of his sepulchre unto this day."— 
Deut. XXXIV: 6. 

" By Nebo's lonely mountain, 
On this side Jordan's wave, 
In a vale in the land of Moab, 

There lies a lonely grave ; 
And no man dug that sepulchre. 

And no man saw it e'er, 
For the angel of God upturned the sod. 
And laid the dead man there." 

This was familiar, as were many of her hymns. 
It seemed strange that one who had read and 
admired her writings so much, Hving upon the 
other side of the ocean, knowing nothing of her 
personal history nor of her place of residence, 
should cross the Atlantic, and in visiting a place 
made sacred to him by the sufferings of his fore- 
fathers, should enter the house and home of the 
gifted and sweet-singing author. This was alluded 
to in conversation with the Bishop, and regret 
expressed that she could not be met, as she was 
then in England. 

The interview was exceedingly enjoyable. An 
invitation to lunch, on a subsequent day, I was 
unable to accept. He gave me a letter to Dean 
Smiley, and placed the records of the cathedral at 
my disposal. He also kindly urged upon me the 
loan of two books, — the History of the Alexander 
Family. Upon consulting them, what was my sur- 
prise to find that the author was the Rev. Charles 
Rodgers, LL. D., of Grampian Lodge, Forest Hill, 
London, to whom I had once been referred for 


information. A rather stilted, curt reply was writ- 
ten me, with the statement that if I would send 
him ^lo he would give me the information. The 
book, like the work of many British professional 
genealogists, was poorly gotten up, and reflected 
no great credit on the author. 

Dean Smiley called upon me at the hotel, and 
very kindly invited me to make use of his private 
study while consulting the records. He showed 
me over the celebrated cathedral, where my an- 
cestors, with other Protestants, worshipped during 
the siege. How it thrilled me as I stood within 
the consecrated walls of that house where they had 
so often gathered, whose floor had been pressed 
by their feet, whose walls had heard the words of 
their religious teachers, echoed with their sup- 
plications in times of grief and disaster, and re- 
sounded with their words of thanksg-ivino- and 
songs of praise in the hour of their supremest joy 
and great deliverance ! There was the elegant 
and elaborately carved organ, upon which they 
had looked, and to whose music they had listened, 
— unless their stern Presbyterian hearts, as might 
be the case, discountenanced instrumental music 
in their worship. The old flagstaffs, captured 
from the French, hang above the altar. Though 
the church has been renovated, yet the same high 
arches as in 1688 are still there. In the vestibule 
is the hollow bomb discharged into the city by 
King James, in which were his demand for the 


surrender of the town and his terms for its capit- 

It was a great privilege and pleasure to visit 
the place, and attend service within its walls. Its 
very floor seemed to echo with the tread of by- 
gone generations, and its walls to speak to every 
sensitive, poetical soul, of grand, heroic, glorious 

From the records of the baptisms, marriages, 
and burials of this parish of Templemore, I copied 
several pages relating to family names familiar on 
this side of the sea — down to 1740. There were 
the names of Allison, Anderson, Armstrong, Bar- 
net, Barr, Bell, Bolton, Boyd, Caldwell, Campbell, 
Clendennin, Cochran, Cunningham, Davidson, 
Dunbar, Fisher, Hopkins, Holland, Hunter, Jack, 
Kerr, Kile, Kinkead, McAllister, Mitchell, Mont- 
gomery, Morrison, Moore, Nesmith, Orr, Park, 
Patterson, Patton, Pinkerton, Ramsey, Rankin, 
Read, Rogers, Simpson, Steele, Stuart, Thorn, 
Thompson, Vance, Wallace, and Wilson. 

There is great difficulty in connecting families 
in America with families in Ireland, especially if 
any considerable length of time has elapsed since 
the emigration to this country. The larger part 
of the people were tenants, and not land-owners, 
and so cannot be traced, as here, by the records of 
transfer of real estate. In Ireland and in England 
all the business done by probate judges in the 
New England states, such as the jurisdiction ol 


wills and the administration of the estates of in- 
testates, was with the bishops of the church estab- 
lished and recognized by law, — sometimes the 
Roman Catholic, and later the Episcopal church; 
and this continued till a few years after the com- 
mencement of Queen Victoria's reign. No law 
was in existence — or none was enforced — requir- 
ing the record and dates of marriages, births, and 
deaths to be kept, till within forty years. The only 
possible chance now to find anything of value is 
occasionally to get a record kept by some method- 
ical and conscientious Catholic priest or Presby- 
terian clergyman, and which may be unearthed in 
some unlooked for locality. 

Wishing to find lists, if possible, of emigrants 
who had come to New England between 17 18 
and 1740, I went to the oldest shipping-houses in 
Londonderry, Coleraine, Port Rush, Belfast, and 
Glasgow, and looked in all other probable and 
improbable places, to get such intelligence; but 
not a particle could be obtained. A letter ad- 
dressed to the Board of Trade elicited this reply: 

Board of Trade, Marine Department. 
Whitehall Gardens, S. W. 

London, loth April, 1884. 


Sir: — I am directed by the Board of Trade to 
acknowledge the receipt of 3"our letter of the 5th 
instant, asking for information respecting lists of 
emigrants who sailed for America between the years 
1718 and 1740; and in reply, to inform you that, so 


far as the Board are aware, there are no such lists 
in existence. I am, Sir, 

Your obedient servant, 


Leonard A. Aforrtson, Esq., 

General Post- Office, Glasgow. 

One delightful Sunday afternoon I took a stroll 
through the Bishop's gate, and met a squad of the 
" Salvation army," with its shouting, its jubilant 
songs, and its waving banners, and passed down a 
sharply descending street, on either side of which 
were the wretched homes of the very poor. In 
the valley is a private park of a Mr. Holmes, who 
showed me over his grounds. There were large 
trees heavily covered with Irish ivy, and the walks 
were finely laid out: the cottage in the midst of 
the garden, surrounded by differing shrubs of the 
greenest green, and the beds of flowers, made it 
a delightful place. Passing on, the ascending 
ground soon touched the location of the ceme- 
tery. It covers thirty acres, and is artistically laid 
out on the sloping hillside, overlooking the dark 
waters of the river Foyle, and commanding a view 
of the city. Walker's pillar, the cathedral, and the 
shipping in the harbor. Catholics and Protestants 
are buried there, though the former occupy a part 
by themselves. The day was warm, clear, and sun- 
ny; and several hours were spent in examining 
lots, walks, and monuments. Many familiar patro- 
nymics were found upon the memorial tablets. 
There were the names of Clark, Ramsay, Gilmorc, 


and others. I wandered among the mounds of 
earth, thought of the quiet sleepers, and mused 
on the wonderful history of those localities. 
When the declining sun was touching the hill- 
tops and cathedral spire with his last beams, 
and deeper shadows rested upon the Foyle, I de- 
parted for the city, going to the Strand, by the 
market and the soldiers' barracks, past the post- 
office to Foyle street, to Jewry hotel, and across 
the city to Bishop street, where I met the Hon. 
Arthur Livermore, U. S. consul, with Mrs. Liver- 
more, who invited me to accompany them to an 
evening service in the cathedral, where Bishop 
Alexander preached a very able sermon on the 
''Lost son." After service, a pleasant evening 
was spent at their lovely home. Their residence 
is delightfully situated, in the new section of the 
city, not far distant from the spot where, in 1689, 
the boom was stretched across the Foyle. Mr. 
Livermore is a son of the late Chief-Justice Liver- 
more of New Hampshire, and in 1884 had been 
consul for thirteen years. He still retains an abid- 
ing and lively interest in his native state. Mrs. 
Livermore presides charmingly over their hospit- 
able home, at which I was a frequent visitor ; and 
should this sketch meet their eyes, they will know 
how fully I appreciated their great kindness, — with 
that of her brother, Mr. Robert Prince, a former 
resident of Lowell, Mass. 

Many of the customs of the British government 


seem absurd. The court of assizes was to be 
opened in the city. A squad of mounted con- 
stabulary met the judge at the railway station, 
escorted him to his lodgings, and waited until he 
was prepared to go to the court-house. Two sen- 
tinels pace back and forth all day long in front of 
the house of the judge. Wanting to see this 
ludicrous scene, I repaired to the court-house and 
awaited the coming of the great genius who was 
to preside in their little court in that contempti- 
ble litde court-room. A loud murmur showed 
that the illustrious ones were drawing near. A 
line of people stood on either side with uncovered 
heads. The sheriff was there with his brilliant 
equipage. The mayor dressed in official robes, 
and others with velvet breeches and knee-buckles 
and staffs of office, were about us. The judo-e 
and lawyers came, with powdered wigs and clad 
in robes. With much "fuss and feathers" they 
got the judge into his box in the court-house. 
And such a court-house ! It would not be tol- 
erated in New England, and is a disgrace to any 
civilized community. It was as primitive in de- 
sign and architecture as though it had been taken 
bodily out of Noah's ark. But anything ancient, 
disagreeable, unhandy, and generally old-fashion- 
ed and uncomfortable, is very dear and precious 
in the eyes of the majority of Britons! It must 
have cost somebody at least one hundred and 
fifty dollars to have taken the judge from the sta- 


tion to the court-house. Some one pays for it ; 
and this expense eventually comes out of the 
people. It was senseless snobbery. No wonder 
the people are poor, and complain of government 
taxes. The time is rapidly coming when these 
abuses will be rectified. 

On St. Patrick's day, March 17, trouble was 
apprehended. The Nationalists advertised a dem- 
onstration, or, rather, the Catholics were going to 
celebrate, and would make a political demonstra- 
tion of it. The Protestants, or Orangemen, con- 
cluded to have a counter-demonstration. When 
such things occur, more or less Irishmen remem- 
ber the day by broken heads. The government 
stopped both demonstrations, A large body of 
Irish constabulary were called into the city, who 
patrolled the walls and streets. The people were 
uneasy and waspish. The shamrock and the or- 
ange blossom were worn by thousands, but the 
day passed without trouble. Upon the walls I 
met a magnificent member of the constabulary 
from the county of Donegal. He was six feet 
four and a half inches in height, and heavily built. 
In answer to an inquiry if he was a sample of the 
men in Donegal, he said he was so diminutive in 
stature that he could command no respect in his 
father's family ; that he had four brothers who 
were each six feet five and a half inches in height, 
and heavier than he proportionately. 

On the way to Omagh and Enniskillen, the 



thick black clouds hung over the mountains of 
Donegal, and soon the rain and hail beat fiercely 
against the roof and sides of the carriage. This 
was not long continued, for the sun broke through 
the clouds, and the day again became clear and 
cheerful. It is never safe to travel without an 
umbrella. It may be bright sunshine, and in ten 
minutes black clouds will obscure the sky, and the 
rain be falling rapidly. 

Enniskillen was an important town during the 
war of 1688-89, and contains 5,000 people. 
Some portions are interesting, and the important 
relics of the past are the Round tower and the 
remains of an old abbey, which are of great 

They are situated on Devenish island, in Lower 
Lough Erne, two and a half miles from the city. 
Devenish is beautifully green. The Round tower 
is eighty-four feet high, forty-eight feet in circum- 
ference, and its walls are nearly three and a half 
feet thick. The door is nine feet from the ground. 
The tower is neatly built of stones about a foot 
square, with scarcely any mortar or cement, while 
the inside is perfectly smooth. Near by are the 
ruins of the abbey, and the two church-yards are 
filled with debris, tumbled down walls, and broken 

At Enniskillen I made the acquaintance of a 
family of Morrisons, in which familiar Christian 
names appeared. The evening was spent at the 


home of Mrs. Hamilton Morrison. The ancestors 
of this family were at the siege in 1688-89. The 
family is very intellig-ent. One of its members 
is a writer of religious hymns, and a portion of one 
is here introduced. 



Jesus, Lord and Master, 

At thy feet I bow, 
And my soul doth cast her 

Self upon thee now. 

Jesus, all excelling. 

Lend a gracious ear. 
By thy love expelling 

Every doubt and fear. 

And my soul shall bless thee 

All my happy days. 
And I shall confess thee 

Lord, in all my ways, — 

Till, when death the story 

Of my life shall end, 
I shall see thy glory, 

Jesus, Master, Friend ! 

Coleshill, Enniskillen, Ireland. 

From Enniskillen to Ballyshannon the scen- 
ery is lovely. The waters of Lough Erne, the 
Windermere of Ireland, with old castles upon its 
banks, have many attractions. On the opposite 
side of the lake are the mountains of Leitrim. 
These were lit up with the glories of the sunset 
as we passed by them. My stay at the unpleas- 


ant town of Ball3-shannon was short. On Sunday 
I attended the Episcopal church, whose pastor is 
Rev. Mr. Cochran, a member of a family resident 
in Ireland since 1688 or 1689, at least. The jour- 
ney was continued fourteen miles by jaunting-car 
to Donegal, which is romantically situated on the 
west coast. The harbor is beautiful, with its islands 
rising out of the waters. There are ruined cas- 
tles, which Cromwell destroyed. The old castle 
of Donegal, once the family seat of the O'Don- 
nells, is interesting. Here is pointed out the 
monastery in which was written the "Annals of 
the Four Masters." Like most Irish towns, Don- 
egal has an excellent market-place, shaped like a 
diamond. I had a pleasant interview with Rev. 
Robert M. Morrison, of the Enniskillen family. 

The road from Donegal to Londonderry leads 
through some of the wildest scenery in Ireland. 
We rode through the romantic pass of " Barnes- 
more gap," a deep, ragged glen, four miles long, 
walled in by mountains rising 1,700 feet — one of 
the most magnificent defiles in Ireland. On one 
side the mountains, rough, bold, and bare, rose 
hundreds of feet above us. Beneath us was the 
valley, through which a river rushed over its rocky 
bed, singing a sweet song, the universal music of 
rushing waters. Beyond the river, and higher up, 
was the highway, while towering above it were 
the heathery mountains. On high elevations were 
vast plains of peat beds, many feet in depth. Ire- 


land is full of them, and they look as bare and 
brown and desolate as though they marked the 
place of vanished seas. 

In the Scotch settlement at Upper Octorara, 
Chester county, Penn., were many persons of the 
Scotch name of Park. The same is true of the 
Scotch settlement of Windham, N. H. — a family 
intellectually strong in each settlement. The late 
Dr. John Park, and his son, Hon. John C. Park, 
of Boston, are distinguished representatives of 
the latter family. Each family, originally Scotch, 
emigrated from Ireland to America. On March 
27 I left Londonderry for St. Johnston, to see 
the Parks, and found three families. The Chris- 
tian names of James, Robert, Alexander, and 
others of the New Hampshire family, cropped out 
there in each generation. I saw Mr. James Park, 
very aged ; and Robert John Park, a bright, clear- 
headed young man of twenty-five years of age, 
was son of Alexander Park, and has brothers, 
Joseph and Robert. The Park family of New 
Hampshire descended from Alexander Park, who 
came to New Hampshire in 1728, and is one of 
strongly defined family looks and mental charac- 
teristics. This Mr. Park had the same eyes, the 
same complexion, and the same family looks; and 
the name of Alexander has been a prominent one 
in his family, as in the New Hampshire family, for 
generations. While the connection between the 
families could not be proven, it most certainly 


existed. There are many of the name at Coleraine 
and at SHgo. 

At Londonderry I was hospitably entertained 
by Dr. Morrison, a graduate of Dublin University, 
and at the attractive home of Mr. Dean, who was 
connected with the families of Armstrong and 
Morrison. The time was at hand when my visit 
to Londonderry was to end. During my stay of 
two weeks, the great courtesy, kindness, and at- 
tention shown me were appreciated. Most agree- 
able acquaintances w^ere made, and the pleasant 
hours at the firesides of its people are gratefully 

On March 28 I started for Coleraine — left 
pleasant friends, the cathedral with its sky-point- 
ing spire, its historic arches, and the resting- 
places of its mighty dead; left the old walls so 
noted in history — and was whirled rapidly along 
the banks of the friendly Foyle, past the spot 
where the boom was stretched across the river in 
the war of 1688-89. I turned my eyes to catch 
one more view of the receding town, and with 
that parting glimpse the historic city faded from 
my view. 

The route lay alongside of land reclaimed from 
the river, and through ragged mountains pierced 
with short tunnels. Castle Rock was soon reached, 
where I was the guest of Rev. James Armstrong, of 
whom and the clan of Armstrong a notice will be 
given in my account of the Scottish border. This 


is a romantic place. The river Bann empties into 
the Atlantic at this point. 

In plain view from the high bluff was the 
"Green castle" near Moville. The U. S. consul 
at Londonderry, Mr. Livermore, had heard a sim- 
ple ballad concerning it sung by the Scotch peo- 
ple in Holderness, N. H. It had been carried to 
America by the Scotch settlers more than 150 
years ago. Extracts from it he gave me. Having 
received it on the old halting ground in Ireland, 
it is brought again to America, and put in print as 
a relic, an echo of a far-away song, whose sweet- 
ness has not wholly died away. 

" On yonder high mountain a castle doth stand, 
All decked with green ivy from the top to the strand. 

* * * 

Beneath that high castle an ocean doth flow ; 
Ships from the East Indies to Derry do go, 
With red flags a-flying and firing of guns, 
Sweet instruments of music and beating of drums." 

In old times the East India Company annually 
sent a ship to Londonderry, but this custom 
ceased long ago. 

At Coleraine, on registering at the Corpora- 
tion Arms hotel, a cordial greeting was received 
from a party watching for my coming. This place 
on the river Bann, four miles from the ocean, has 
a population of 6,000. In the "diamond" is a 
public fountain. On one side are engraved the 
names of individuals: on the opposite, over the 
flowing stream, is this inscription, "He that drink- 


eth of this water shall thirst again," etc. The 
place was of much interest to me, because it was a 
centre of country from which came the Scotch 
settlers of Windham, Londonderry, Antrim, New 
Boston, Bedford, and many other towns in New 

John Dinsmoor, the son of John Dinsmoor, a 
Scotchman, who had settled in County Antrim, 
Ireland^ came to Windham, New Hampshire, as 
early as 1724. His descendants are represented 
by the two Samuel Dinsmoors — father and son — 
who were governors of the state; Hon. James 
Dinsmoor, lawyer and author, of Sterling, 111. ; 
Col. Silas Dinsmoor, the celebrated Indian agent; 
and Hon. William B. Dinsmore, president of the 
Adams Express Co., of New York city. Wishing 
to see members of the family in Ireland, it was a 
pleasure to meet James Dinsmoor and sons, from 
Muff, a few miles from Londonderry, whose fam- 
ily bore the familiar names of Ephraim, James, 
and John. In Coleraine was James Dinsmoor and 
his family. He had numerous connections at Ma- 
cosquin, three miles away. He is connected with 
the Dinsmoors in New Hampshire, and is familiar 
with the early history of the family. In County 
Antrim, in the town of Kells, near Ballemena, are 
John and Francis Dinsmoor, linen and woollen 
manufacturers — intelligent, fine men, who belong 
to another branch of this family. 

At Priestland still live the Pattersons, and when 


not long since a local gentleman of note died, six 
tall, stalwart men of this family bore him to his 
rest. The New Hampshire branch which came 
from that place is large and influential, and is rep- 
resented by the silver-tongued orator, Hon. James 
W. Patterson, formerly U. S. senator from New 
Hampshire, and present superintendent of public 
instruction, and the late Hon. George W. Patter- 
son, member of congress and lieutenant-governor 
of New York. 

Aghadowey, six miles from Coleraine, is the 
locality from which came Rev. James McGregor 
and a portion of his flock to Londonderry, N. H., 
in 1718-19. He was settled over that parish 
from 1 701-17 18, when he resigned and came to 
America.'^ Before leaving that place he preached 
to his flock from Exodus 33: 15 — "If thy pres- 
ence go not with me, carry us not up hence." He 
recounted the reasons for leaving their homes, and 
seeking an asylum in the American wilderness, 
"They were to avoid oppressions and cruel bond- 
age, to shun persecution and designed ruin, to 
withdraw from the communion of idolaters, to 
have an opportunity of worshipping God accord- 
ing to the dictates of conscience and the rules of 
his inspired word." 

* See Historical and Literary Memorials of Presbyterianism in Ireland, 
1623-1800, 2 vols., published in 1879 ^Y Prof. Thomas Withrow, of Magee 
college, Londonderry, Ireland, and History of the Presbyterian Church in 
Ireland, 3 vols., by James Beaton Reid, D. D., which are m the state 
library at Concord, N. H. 


So, most intimately connected, are Aghadowey, 
county of Londonderry, Ireland, and Londonderry 
and Windham, New Hampshire. As he preached 
to his people on the eve of their departure from 
their homes in Aghadowey in 1718, so, on the 
23d day of April, 1719, he spoke to his reunited 
flock in their new home in Londonderry, N. H. 

On the east side of Tsienneto lake, under the 
spreading branches of a great oak, he preached 
from Isaiah 32 : 2 — "And a man shall be as a hid- 
ing-place from the wind, and a covert from the 
tempest, as rivers of water in a dry place, as the 
shadow of a great rock in a weary land." 

The first sixteen settlers were James McKeen, 
John Barnet, Archibald Clendennin, John Mitchell, 
James Starrett, James Anderson, Randall Alexan- 
der, James Gregg, James Clark, James Nesmith, 
Allen Anderson, Robert Weir, John Morrison, 
Samuel Allison, Thomas Steele, John Stuart ; and 
later, the Rankins, Caldwells, Cochrans, Clydes, 
Dinsmoors, and other Morrisons. 

The Nesmith family of New Hampshire has had 
as representatives the Hon. John Nesmith, lieu- 
tenant-governor of Massachusetts, George W. 
Nesmith, LL. D., of Franklin, N. H., and Hon. 
James W. Nesmith, U. S. senator from Oregon. 

The Cochrans have noted men, and among 
them are the late Judge Silas M. Cochran, of Bal- 
timore, Md., and Rev. Warren R. Cochrane, au- 
thor, preacher, and poet, of Antrim, N. H, 


Some, and most probably all, of the Morrisons 
came from this parish. They are represented by 
Hon. George W. Morrison, late member of con- 
gress. Judge Charles R. Morrison, lawyer and 
author, of Manchester, N. H., Rev. John H. Mor- 
ison, D. D., clergyman and author, Boston, Mass., 
and his brother, Nathaniel H. Morison, LL. D., 
teacher and author, and provost of the Peabody 
Institute, Baltimore, Md., and Hon. Thomas F. 
Morrison, of Londonderry, Nova Scotia. The list 
might be swelled of the distinguished descendants 
of the Scotch emigrants from that parish in Ire- 

The Caldwells of Windham were from Garvagh. 
I received this unique specimen from a Coleraine 
paper. The writer said, — "I have a family Bible 
in my possession which belonged to my deceased 
grandfather, and on the title-page I find it re- 
corded that an ancestor of mine, James Caldwell, 
of Killure, Macosquin, emigrated in 1671, some 
200 years ago, to Londonderry, County Windham, 
state of Vermont." The fact of the emigration is 
unquestioned, but the dates and geographical 
description are at fault. 

Rev. Matthew Clark, of Kilrea, three miles dis- 
tant, was the second minister of Londonderry, 
N. H. 

The people in the settlements of Kilrea, Gar- 
vagh, Aghadowey, and others are distinctly Scotch, 
after a residence of 200 years. Marriages between 


the native Irish and the Scotch settlers have rare- 
ly occurred, the people being kept apart by their 
religious differences and the sharp feuds of race. 
I have met and heard talk in some of the settle- 
ments persons with the Scotch dialect, with the 
rich brogue which was occasionally heard in my 

The names of Barnet, Mitchell, Starrett, Ander- 
son, Alexander, Gregg, Clark, Weir, Stuart, Dins- 
moor, Rankin, Park, Clyde, Cochran, and Morri- 
son are common in Aghadowey, Garvagh, and 
other parishes. 

I was most hospitably entertained by a clans- 
man, Mr. William Morrison, of Garfield Grange, 
Crockendolge, Garvagh, the father of Hon. Robert 
Morrison, a prominent lawyer of Washington, 
D. C. Very gladly was the opportunity embraced 
of entering the homes of these intelligent and ex- 
cellent people. 

It was a great pleasure to visit the family of 
Hugh R. Morrison, Esq. He is a magistrate, and 
one of the sub-land-commissioners under Glad- 
stone's land act. Having had correspondence with 
him several years ago, my reception was most kind. 
He is finely situated, at Money Dig, Garvagh. 
One son of Mr. Morrison is a Presbyterian cler- 
gyman, one a physician, while another overlooks 
the large estate. On his estate are ancient earth- 
works, circular in form, including a large area. 
Evidently in centuries long gone they enclosed 


the tribal dwellings of the ancient inhabitants. 
The artificially constructed elevations were for 
their protection, and the excavations beneath were 
their store-houses. Strange as it may seem, there 
was found a ball of butter a foot in diameter, 
which is retained as a curiosity. The lapse of 
centuries has dried and lightened it, but one can 
easily insert a knife and discover its character. 

The old home of the Rankin family was shown 
me. A wealthy member of this family now lives 
in St. Louis. 

I was entertained at the hospitable home of 
Mr. William McKeeman, of Garvagh. One of the 
strange wild sights in Ireland, and also in Scotland, 
were whole plantations of trees which a great gale 
had levelled with the earth and thrown into the 
most inextricable confusion. The larofe linen 
bleachino- establishments are curiosities. The 
linen in long rolls was taken into the green fields 
and spread out for bleaching. Whole acres were 
covered with it, making a peculiar but pleasing 

My next objective point was Giant's Causeway. 
I passed through Portrush, a place from which 
many emigrants sailed to America. It is a bold 
headland projecting into the broad Atlantic. The 
scenic beauties along the coast are perfectly en- 
chanting. Taking the electric railway for Bush- 
mills, we passed the ruined but remarkable castle 
of Dunluce, overlooking the sea. The railway is 


perfection itself, and is three miles in length. A 
large waterfall is utilized to generate the electric- 
ity, and the car has no visible motive power. 

It was the first of April, and what a day at the 
Causeway — so bright and clear and sunny! Not a 
cloud was to be seen. From the hio-h bluffs the 
blue depths were beneath and the deep blue above 
us. The bending heavens shone brightly on the 
unrestful wafers of the bay. The sea-gulls in 
rapid flight uttered sharp cries as they plunged 
their beaks beneath the surface of the sea, or 
rested their weary and snowy forms upon its heav- 
ing bosom. The high cliff's were above and around 
us, and the deep caves from their ponderous cav- 
erns rolled back the echoing notes of the ocean's 
wild, weird song. 

There are 40,000 pillars of basaltic rock, dark 
as slate, and so close together that the blade of a 
knife cannot be inserted between them. They 
were placed there by the mysterious and mighty 
powers of nature, and usually are five, six, or 
seven sided. The exposed ends of these pillars 
which rise out of the sea cover many acres. In 
the perpendicular cliff's are three courses of 
upright columns, one above the other, each from 
forty to sixty feet high, and separated by masses 
of earth or rock. Of all my days of foreign 
travel, none was enjoyed more than the day at 
the Causeway. 

I secured a guide and four boatmen to take 


me across the bay, to explore the caves and see 
the beauties of the place. We passed between 
high hills, and reached the waiting boat upon the 

" The boat is trimmed with sail and oar, 
And all prepared to quit the shore; 
Then off we go with wind and tide, 
Across the sunny waves to glide. 
Then row ! row ! row ! 
Merrily over the waves we go !" 

We saw various caves. The most noted was 
Portcoon cave, a half mile from the Causeway, 
which the legend says was once inhabited by a 
giant who would accept no food from human 
hands, and so he was fed by the seals. The 
boatmen rowed into Dunkerry cave, which can 
only be entered from the sea. The entrance 
resembles a Gothic arch, and the roof is sixty 
feet above high-water mark. When we entered 
this " temple not made with hands," we saw the 
glorious tints of the many-colored rock in the 
roof above and in the solid arching sides. As we 
advanced the cave grew narrower, and the oars 
were drawn into the boat. The entrance became 
smaller, and as we neared the end the waters 
dashed heavily against the sides of the mountain. 
The boat rose and fell as the waters ebbed and 
flowed in response to the swell of the ocean. As 
we cast our eyes towards the entrance, now our 
place of exit, it seemed as though the rising 
sea would shut us into the cavern away from the 


sight of earth, while ceaselessly was heard the 
moaning of the imprisoned sea, as it sloughed 
and swayed and swashed against the end and 
sides of this great temple. 

Emerging once more into the bright world, we 
went from point to point possessed of fanciful 
names. I drank the clear water from the Giant's 
well, a cavity in basaltic rock, and saw the Giant's 
gateway and loom, composed of a series of col- 
umns standing upright, and the Giant's organ, a 
place in the side of the mountain. Then there 
was the pretty bay, which is the delight of tourists. 
When the tour was concluded, I dismissed the 
four boatmen, who clamored vociferously for 
"tips." I made a careful bargain with the hotel 
proprietor for their services, but that made not 
the slightest difference. I was a tourist and an 
American, and was a legitimate object of plunder. 
As there were four of them and "only one of me," 
I feed them all. My guide and I climbed the shep- 
herd's path, a dizzy way over the high cliff, to the 
green level lands above. He served me faithfully, 
and when the hotel was reached I feed him. Eu- 
ropeans have a wonderful faculty of depleting the 
pockets of travellers, and tipping is one of the 
most -obnoxious customs. I only tipped five per- 
sons after paying all that was agreed upon in the 
original bill, and escaped from the clutches of 
boots, chambermaid, and porter, and mounted a 
jaunting-car for Belfast, eighty miles away. Sixty 


miles was made by jaunting-car through the finest 
scenery of Ireland. 

On the way to Bally castle I wandered from 
the road to visit the wonderful chasm Carrick-a- 
Rede. A rope bridge leads across the gulf, sixty 
feet long and ninety feet above the water. A 
heavy mist was falling, a strong wind blowing, and 
the narrow bridge with a board upon it swayed to 
and fro over the deep abyss. The perilous feat 
of crossing it was left to others. My guide was 
Francis, son of James and grandson of Alexander 
Jameson. These were common names in the 
New Hampshire settlements. 

Along this coast the scenery is wonderful. The 
limestone cliffs, white and glistening, rise out of 
the sea, and in the distance seemed like villages 
of white houses. The coast is full of caves. I 
passed through the towns of Cushendall and Glen- 
arm, through the county of Antrim, which is one 
of the purest Scotch settlements. The roads, like 
all in Great Britain, are most excellent. Rocks 
are taken from the cliffs to a recess at the side of 
the highway, there beaten fine, and then put upon 
the road, making it hard as stone and smooth as a 

Antrim, agriculturally, is one of the best coun- 
ties in Ireland, There I saw the nearest approach, 
in the looks of dwellings and in the appearance of 
farms and surroundings, to the homes of New 
England farmers. The people seemed prosperous, 


and there was none of the wretched poverty visi- 
ble which one sees in other locahties. For twenty 
miles the highway skirted the coast, with the sea 
upon one side and towering cliffs of limestone 
upon the other, while away up their almost per- 
pendicular sides, in the green patches, the sheep 
and lambs were feeding among the rocks. The 
scenery was magnificent. 

On the second day we arrived at Larne, which 
is a flourishing town of 3,000 people. At this 
place one takes the steamer for Stranraer, Scot- 
land, thirty-nine and a half miles away. From 
Larne the journey was continued by the narrow 
gauge railway to Ballemena, and I registered at 
the Adair Arms hotel. A man with a good Scotch 
name, John Campbell, was proprietor. 

In the Scotch settlement of Windham, N. H., 
once lived a strange character, Francis Richey, 
"born in ye county of Antrim, and town of Bally- 
manaugh, in ye north of Ireland, who died July 
12, 1777, se 61 yrs." In the ancient cemetery 
there, beneath a flat stone, for more than a hun- 
dred years he has reposed, and where he will rest 
till the great awakening light of the final day. As 
I passed through the streets of Ballemena, his 
early-home, I observed a sign over a building for 
trade with the name Francis Richey. 

I passed through the attractive town of Antrim, 
of 2,000 people. It is situated near Lough 
Neagh, the largest lake in Ireland. Passing the 


intervening twenty-two miles we entered Belfast, 
the finest, liveliest town in Ireland, which contains 
some 230,000 people. Here a week was spent 
most pleasantly. 

Linen Hall, or Belfast library, founded in 1788, 
and owned by shareholders, is a good reference 
library. The rules, the seats, tables, and other 
facilities for consulting works are at least twenty- 
five years behind the times, or behind the libraries 
in New England. Much time can be profitably 
spent there. The grounds about it with their 
trees and flowers are delightful. 

Many lovely rides one can take about this de- 
lightful city. The tram-cars go in all directions ; 
and by ascending a spiral staircase passengers 
mount to the top. From this place a fine view 
of all parts of the city can be had. One bright, 
sunny day, in company with two gentlemen, I 
started for a visit to the top of Cave hill, three 
miles north of the town. Taking our seats on 
the top of the tram-car, we rode past elegant res- 
idences and parks of beauty, as we proceeded up 
the Antrim road to the terminus of the route. We 
then walked to the base of the mountain, and pass- 
ing through a wire fence, entered the sacred en- 
closure, and commenced the toilsome ascent. It 
seems that this land was sacred for game, and 
human beings must not pollute the soil by tread- 
ing upon it. It is almost an unpardonable sin 
to look inside, or breathe the air. I was not famil- 


iar with these things, and took my first lesson in 
the beauties of landlordism. As we ascended, we 
started hare and other game from cover. But 
steeper grew the mountain, harder the ascent. It 
was so sharp that we took hold of the long, dry 
grass, which grew abundantly, and pulled our- 
selves up the steep incline. At length, utterly 
fatigued, we threw ourselves on the slope for rest. 
The day was clear, and the Lough of Belfast glis- 
tened in the sunshine, while the town of Bangor 
and other places were plainly visible. In another 
direction was an old round tower. At the base of 
the mountain, some distance away, was the castle 
of the lord proprietor. Front of this was a man, 
who watched us with interest. 

We pressed on, and when within a few rods of 
a wall on the summit, the goal of our desires, just 
at this supreme moment, what should appear be- 
fore our startled vision but a wild looking man, 
running upon the opposite side, shaking a long 
staff, and gesticulating violently. We halted till he 
came to us. His speech was so incoherent and 
peculiar that we could not understand him fully; 
but he ordered us down from the mountain, and 
desired us to interview the man of contemplative 
mood in front of the castle. We could have left 
the game-keeper easily, but concluded to take a 
look at the castle and converse with the steward. 
When we reached the latter, I advanced, present- 
ed the steward with my card, extended my hand, 


and expressed my great pleasure and gratification 
on making his acquaintance. He hesitated, look- 
ed at me sharply, seemed rather nonplussed, and 
for some unexplained cause he appeared cool in 
his welcome, and delayed for a moment before 
clasping my extended hand. He was greatly an- 
noyed that any person should presume to cross 
the land of his liege lord ; and when we left him 
he expressed the friendly hope that he might 
never see our sweet faces again ! 

We visited the Botanic gardens. Queen's col- 
lege, and other points. It had been a long walk, 
a long ride, and the experiences and sights were 
enjoyable. Belfast seems like an American city, 
and is very nice. The plans of the houses and 
their surroundings are neat and pretty. There is 
a great deal of enterprise and wealth, and it is the 
finest city in Ireland. It might be annexed to 
Boston, and one could hardly tell where Boston 
left off and Belfast commenced. 

On Palm Sunday I attended St. Malachy's 
Roman Catholic church, where multitudes gath- 
ered. The singing was beautiful, and the sermon 
was good. Spent a delightful evening at the 
hospitable home and with the charming family 
of William E. Armstrong, Esq., solicitor, opposite 
Belfast academy. 

At Castle Rock and Belfast I struck the clue of 
valuable historical and genealogical information 
which was developed upon my arrival in Edin- 


My sojourn in the country was drawing to a 
close, and I will give my impressions derived 
from a visit of a month in the Emerald Isle. The 
amount of poverty, ignorance, and wretchedness 
which meets one in many parts is appalling. 
The people have been badly treated and ground 
down by the landlords. The system of landlord- 
ism, as it now exists, ought to be and will be extir- 
pated, root and branch. The great estates given 
up to game should be purchased at a fair rate, 
taken possession of by the government, and sold 
to the people, to whom they rightfully belong, for 
human comfort and human habitations. 

In the counties of Sligo, Roscommon, and Leit- 
rim the people are poor. The good land is turned 
into grass farms, while cattle are pastured on the 
low damp grounds, and sheep upon the dryer 
portions. The houses of former tenants have been 
tumbled, wholesale, the stones used for makino- 
fences along the highway or through the fields. 
In Ireland, between 1841 and 186 1, two hundred 
and seventy thousand cabins, the homes of 
nearly one and a half millions of people, were 
destroyed, and the people were forced to emi- 
grate or die. Thousands of small farms were 
made into a large one. There are large districts 
where for miles and miles a traveller can see only 
an occasional house for a herdsman or of a local 
proprietor. How the people make a living is 
a mystery, for a great part of the land occupied 


by the small farmers would not pay the cost of 
cultivation, or improvement, if done with hired 
labor. Everything seems combined to dwarf the 
aspirations and energies of the people, rather 
than to stimulate them into healthy activity. 

As formerly stated, there are two classes in 
Ireland, — the native Celts, who so largely come 
to America, who are Catholics, and the descend- 
ants of the Scotch and English settlers. The 
descendants of the Scotch in Ireland are the 
same as those who formed the Scotch settlements 
in America, and are largely Presbyterians. The 
descendants of the Scotch and English reside 
principally in the north of Ireland, and as a class 
are much more intelligent, more thrifty, and 
more prosperous than the native Irish, though 
they live on a less productive soil. Two causes 
have aided in making this difference. The gov- 
ernment has given the residents in the north more 
privileges, and the influence of their religion has 
been to make the people intelligent, and to lead 
them to do their own thinking. The native Irish 
have been more cruelly oppressed, and the influ- 
ence of their religion has been directly opposite, 
and led their religious teachers to do the thinking 
for the people. The descendants of the English 
are largely Episcopalians. There is much bad feel- 
ing between the people of the different denomi- 
nations, and little of that liberality and charity ex- 
ists between them which are found in the United 


States. An Episcopal clergyman said to me, in 
speaking- of the different denominations, — " Nat- 
urally the Episcopalians and the Presbyterians 
would work together politically rather than other- 
wise, but let an Episcopalian be a candidate for 
any office, and I'll be blowed if the Presbyterians 
and the Catholics won't unite to defeat him every 
time." The Presbyterians are stiff, old-fashioned, 
and conservative. A bitter controversy is going 
on between the progressive and conservative ele- 
ments in regard to the use of instrumental music 
in their churches. 

Among all classes in the Emerald Isle, — the rich, 
the poor, the good, the bad, Catholic and Protes- 
tant, — a great amount of intoxicants is used. This 
custom, and landlordism, are the two great curses 
of Ireland. In my travels I have never met a 
finer class of people than the descendants of the 
Scotch and English settlers in Ireland. They are 
intelligent, honest, and conscientious. 

The native or Celtic Irish are not so well 
educated, or so intelligent. They are impulsive, 
kind, warm-hearted, and hospitable. Upon re- 
ligious matters they do not have intelligent 
individual opinions, but the most illiterate and 
the most intelligent are influenced and governed 
largely by their priests. 

America is loved, and Americans are held in 
high esteem, by all classes. An American with 
common politeness will be treated with kindness 


in any part of Ireland. For myself the kindest 
wishes for Ireland abide with me. I met some 
of the highest, many of the lowliest, and con- 
versed with hundreds of her middle classes, and 
by all, Catholics and Protestants, I was treated 
with great attention, courtesy, and kindness. 

The condition of the country is certainly im- 
proving. The people are "more and more," and 
the landlords are becoming "smaller by degrees 
and beautifully less." Gladstone's land act of 
1 88 1 was a savage blow to landlordism. The bill 
of Mr. Gladstone's before parliament, for buying 
the land of those landlords who wish to sell, seems 
to me too easy upon the landlords. I look with 
distrust upon the bill for Home Rule as it was 
presented by Mr. Gladstone, and doubt the fit- 
ness of the country for it, though a modified bill 
of that sort might be well. The two classes. Cath- 
olic and Protestant, are so distinct, and so bitter 
are their animosities, that it would be singular 
if they could affiliate, and work for the common 
good. But somehow, in some way, the present 
must be the dawning of a better day for the 
Irish people. With a broad and liberal policy of 
the government, with the diffusion of educational 
privileges, and the enlightening influences of 
religious liberty, all of which must come in due 
time, there is a bright future for Ireland. 

From Belfast I went to Larne, passing through 
Carrickfergus. Its old castle, still garrisoned by 


troops, is covered with ivy, and the white waves of 
the ocean beat against it. 

Larne is a town of from 3,000 to 4,000 people, 
and the shipping port for Stranraer, Scotland, 
thirty- nine and a half miles away. As we steamed 
out of the harbor, I glanced backward upon that 
retreating land, upon which nature had poured her 
riches and her charms so lavishly. 

Farewell, sweet, beautiful Ireland! Farewell! 
your high mountains, your green hills, your lovely 
valleys and swiftly flowing rivers ! I bid you all 
adieu ! With a heart full of sympathy for your woes, 
fondly do I hope that the present is the dawning 
of the day of your emancipation from the social, 
religious, and political evils which oppress you. 
Ardently do I wish that your future, unlike your 
past, may give your loving sons and daughters 
something beside " beauty and sorrow"! Thus I 
took leave of the temporary abode of my ances- 
tors, and passed out of Ireland. 

Looking forward: My desires to be in Scotland, 
the fatherland, were too strong to be longer re- 
pressed. I longed to gaze upon her historic 
mountains, to breathe her bracing air, and to press 
my feet upon her soil. As the boat speeded on 
her way, out of the silvery sea rose the outline 
of the Scottish coast. As the shades of evening 
fell, bolder and more distinct became the hicrh 
headlands. When nio-ht brooded over the silent 
mountains, I was in the home of my forefathers. 
Thus I passed into Scotland. 



"A combination of sea and mountains made Scotland the home of a 
bold, vigorous, liberty-loving people." 

"Two voices are there; — one is of the sea. 
One of the mountains, each a mighty voice." 

fT is a great thing to belong to a nation of which 
you are proud, to have claims upon a nation- 
ality whose memories and traditions have been 
glorious. This country has wonderful attractions 
to Scotch- Americans. It is the home of a ofreat 
and intellectual people. Its associations, histori- 
cal and political, are exceedingly rich. Martyrs 
for liberty and religion have died there. Poets 
and authors of world-wide reputation have made 
their country famous, and have invested its seas, 
its rivers, its lakes and mountains, with romantic 
interest. They have peopled all places with chil- 
dren of their brain. 

It is the home of Wallace, Bruce, Knox, Burns, 
Scott, and Black, and of great and illustrious per- 
sonages of the past and present in various walks of 
life. The histories of individuals, of clans, of the 
Scotch nation, speak from rocky mountains, from 
the glens of Scotland, and clothe all places with a 


living, human interest. Her children have been 

" By the touch of the mountain sod." 

So closely are the blue mountains of Scotland 
allied with the green fields of the Emerald Isle, 
that at their nearest points only twenty miles of 
sea divide them. On a clear day, from the Irish 
coast can be seen the mountains of Scotland. In 
the dark days of her history it is not surprising 
that many of her people, fleeing from persecutions, 
should cross this narrow belt of sea and find refuge 
from relentless persecution. Thousands went to 
better their condition. It is computed that in 
1 64 1 there were 20,000 English and 100,000 
Scotch in the plantation of Ulster. So the ances- 
tors of the Scotch, who formed settlements in New 
Hampshire, Pennsylvania, and several of the 
Southern states, passed into the Emerald Isle. 
Then once more this hardy, unconquered, and 
unconquerable race fled from a country not worthy 
of them, on account of despotic landlords and an 
oppressive and bigoted government. They col- 
lected their household gods, and the little proper- 
ty they had, which was not much, — for landlords, 
the Established Church, and the government had 
nibbed them of nearly all their income, — took 
the voyage of from eight to twelve weeks across 
the Atlantic, and founded new homes in the wil- 
derness of America, and helped to build and de- 
velop the wonderful government of the United 


The portion of sea which I crossed from Larne to 
Stranraer occupied two and three fourths hours in 
the passage. We passed five domains before we 
entered Stranraer, among them that of Sir Wilham 
Wallace, who claims kinship to the renowned 
chieftain and liberator. I was now in a land whose 
every rod of territory was bristling with history. 
In the proud heritage of her past I could claim a 
part. I had loved Scotland and the lives of many 
of her people. When one who has so loved her and 
her history treads for the first time her soil, very 
vividly will important historic events pass before 
him. They come thronging back upon his soul 
like the inrushing waters of a mighty flood. 

Stranraer is an untidy, disagreeable town, with 
narrow streets and 6,000 people, and stands at the 
head of Loch Ryan. I registered at Meikle's 
hotel. There were wretched, thatch-roofed cot- 
tages, occupied by people poorly fed and meanly 
clad. Poverty was everywhere. One could not 
but think that Scotland treated her children shab- 
bily. This was only one side of the picture : the 
other will be exhibited. 

Four miles from Stranraer are the ruins of Cas- 
tle Kennedy, formerly the seat of famous earls. 
The ruins are upon the estate of the Earl of 
Stair, which is one of the finest in Scotland. On 
the morning succeeding my arrival the celebrated 
place was visited, '^fhe grounds are superb, laid 
out with groves, grand avenues, mounds, and ter- 


races, rich with grass. They are not driven over, 
and the well kept grounds contain delightful prom- 
enades, ornamented with rare and beautiful trees. 
Among them is one of great beauty, popularly 
known as the " Devil's puzzle," very green, with 
long, round, prickly limbs, while the body of the 
tree is covered with barbed flakes. A lake with its 
sinuous windinofs adds to the attractiveness of the 
place. Castle Kennedy, majestic in its ruins, 
stands on a narrow neck of land between two 
lakes. An accidental fire in 1 7 1 5 reduced it to its 
present condition. A large portion is covered 
with ivy. It was a charming spring morning, and 
the air w-as melodious with the songs of birds, as 
hundreds of them live in the ruins, in the broken 
chimneys, in the covering ivy, and in the crevices 
of the shattered walls. The present castle of the 
Earl of Stair, one fourth of a mile distant, is of 
elegant proportions and stateliness. Like most 
castles in Great Britain, it is occupied only a por- 
tion of the year by the wealthy proprietor. Land- 
lords and nobles spend the rest of the time "in 
town," which means London, where many of them 
have elegant mansions, or in Paris and on the 

While passing over this estate, a large pack 
of perhaps thirty hounds were unloosed by the 
hound-keeper. They were sleek, finely formed, 
and well kept. They flew across the park with 
great rapidity, with loud hayings, but were obedi- 


ent to the call of the keeper. It was a beautiful 

In Enoland alone there are said to be five hun- 
dred packs of hounds of eighty each, or forty 
thousand kept for hunting purposes. There are 
one hundred and fifteen thousand hunting horses, 
lone-limbed, and fleet as the wind. Hounds and 
horses and hunting establishments are supported 
at an annual expense of nearly $50,000,000. 
When hunting they cross fields, damaging crops, 
and leap ditches and high fences ; and all this for 
the sake of making Englishmen "manly" by chas- 
ing to its death a hare, a fox, or a deer. The tenant 
had, till recently, no rights which "gentlemen" 
were bound to respect. 

This is the other side of the picture. It matters 
not to the governing class or nobility that the 
people suffer; that they work for sixteen or twen- 
ty cents per day, board and clothe themselves and 
their families, and furnish their homes for wife 
and children. It matters not that the masses are 
clothed in tattered garments, shoeless, with none 
of the comforts of life, so long as they fare sump- 
tuously every clay on estates stolen from the peo- 
ple and given to their ancestors centuries ago. 

But is it any wonder that the people do not 
like it, that the mutterings of a coming storm are 
heard, that there is a ferment among the masses 
in Ireland and the crofters of Scotland? How long 
would the American people tolerate such insufl"er- 



able nuisances as exist in Great Britain ! They 
had only the slightest taste of the British system in 
1776, when they rose in their might, repudiated 
the "divine right" of kings and nobles, repudiated 
caste, landlordism, and the whole blessed arrange- 
ment, gathered them together, and sent them 
across the Adantic to King George III and his 
parliament with the compliments of the American 
people, and the message that Americans did not 
want these things and would not have them! And 
they made good their words! 

It is refreshing to turn from these things, and 
visit Ayr, a spot made famous by one who be- 
longed to a higher and nobler aristocracy — that of 
intellect. It is situated on the river Ayr, with a 
population of 18,000. The river dividing it is 
crossed by two bridges. In the city is the Wallace 
tower, with a niche containing his statue. 

But what gives this place its interest is the fact 
that it is the birth- 
place of Robert Burns. 
Around it his life and 
writing's have thrown 
a fascination which will 
never die. Thousands 
of pilgrims from all 
> portions of the globe 
visit it year by year. From the low thatch-roofed 
cottage in which he was born has gone forth an 
influence which deepens and broadens with the 



rolling years. His writings have thrilled and stir- 
red the hearts of Scotchmen beyond those of any 
other man. He is the most deeply loved of any, 
and is recognized as the greatest genius in Scot- 
tish literature. When I visited these historic spots 
I was filled with delight, and more profoundly 
stirred than at any other place in my travels. 

A wonderful fascination clino-s to the name of 
Burns. Without a liberal education or culture, 
without friends of influence, with nothing to de- 
velop him and everything to repress him, this 
plowman — and a plowman in Scotland is not like 
a plowman in New England — by the transcend- 
ent brilliancy of his genius, forced himself into the 
front ranks of the noted men of the world. Un- 
appreciated in his day and generation, scorned by 
many, forsaken by the rich and powerful, untrue 
himself to the leadings of his better nature, he was 
left alone to tread the way of poverty and sorrow. 
Then the sensitive, proud spirit of this kingly son 
of the soil was soured and broken, and he died 
July 2 1, 1796, at the early age of 37 years. While 
the names of many noted men of his generation 
have passed into oblivion, his fame increases. No 
honors are too great to perpetuate his name, and 
monuments are erected to his memory. 

An old Scotch lady once said, — 

" Poor Robbie Burns ! when alive he cried for bread, 
And they gave him a stone — when he was dead ! " 

This shows man's inhumanity to man. In his 

1 ,> 1 > » 


last years the sympathy and aid of his country- 
men were not g-iven him. Then they would have 
cheered and blest him ! When death closed the 
scene, when he had passed beyond the ken of 
mortal vision, beyond the reach of human aid, 
where human sympathy could not cheer and hu- 
man criticism could not wound, then his genius 
was recognized, then the love and honors of his 
countrymen were poured out lavishly to celebrate 
his fame. Surely 

" They gave him a stone — when he was dead ! " 

On High street, near the Wallace tower, is a 
house with a brass plate above the door, wnth the 
inscription, "The house in which Tam O'Shanter 
an' Souter Johnny held their meetings." It is 
the little two-story house know^n as the "Tam 
O'Shanter Inn." The chairs in which the two 
friends sat are there. On the one which Tam 
is said to have occupied is an inscription from the 
poem "Tam O'Shanter" commencing, — 

" No man can tether time or tide ; 
The hour approaches, Tam maun ride, 
Weel mounted on liis gray mare, Meg ; 
A better never lifted leg." 

There also is Souter Johnny's chair, with the 
inscription on a brass plate : 

" Fast by an ingle bleezing finely, 
Wi' reaming swats that drank divinely, 
And at his elbow, Souter Johnny, 
His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony." 

r ' o < 
■ <■ it 



I next visited Burns's cottage, two miles from 
Ayr. There is the lowly thatch-roofed tenement 
where he was born, and which is guarded with 
jealous care. Passing through the turnstile, pay- 
ing two-pence admission, I entered the room in 
which the poet was born. There was the old- 
fashioned bedstead in the wall, the clay floor, 
the dresser with the pewter dishes, the white deal 
table, the tall eight-day clock, and the old rickety 
spinning-wheel that belonged to his sweet " High- 
land Mary." The room is in substantially the same 
condition it was a century ago. In a room back 
of this are portraits of Burns, and some of his 
poems in manuscript. This also serves as a res- 
taurant, where refreshments are sold, with relics 

of the place. I left the cottage 
and visited Alloway kirk, which 
owes its celebrity to the imagery 
of Burns's poems, and is the scene 
of the fiends' revelry in "Tarn 
riili O'Shanter." It is a little church, 
and in ruins, with the roof entire- 


AllowAVVkiri^ ^ ]y fallen in and removed 


f£iS^f'>^'^^^= St 


Stone walls still stand: the baptismal font, partly 
inside the walls and partly upon the outside, 
can still be seen. The bell hangs in the old bel- 
fry, but it no longer calls people to the house 
of prayer. A sign hangs upon the front of the 
kirk, which requests persons not to throw stones 
at the bell, or to deface the building. Immediate- 


ly in front of the kirk is buried the father of Burns. 
Above him a new stone has been raised, as the 
former one had been entirely chipped away by rehc- 
hunters. Near by are the "banks and braes of 
bonny Doon." The Doon is a swiftly flowing, 
pleasing river. A few hundred yards distant is 
the "auld brig o' Doon," an arched bridge of stone 
of ancient date, but famous in song. It was over 
this bridge that Tarn O'Shanter was chased by 
the witches, — chased so hard, followed so close, 
that he was only saved from the grasp of the rev- 
elling fiends by the fleetness of his horse Maggie, 
which passed to the keystone of the bridge, where 
Cutty Sark 

" Flew at Tarn \vi' furious ettle, 
But little wist she Maggie's mettle : 
Ae spring brought off her master hale, 
But left behind her own gray tail." 

Overlooking this place is Burns's monument. The 
building, which blends the Roman and the Gre- 
cian architectural styles, is 'pifJ^^^p^^H!?^^ 
sixty feet in height, and ^K'^^K^^^^' 
the foundation stone was ^^^^^^^^^^^c'^^ 
laid January 25, 1820. It is finely situated on an 
acre of land, and is a fitting memorial of a peo- 
ple's affection for their greatest poet. In a circu- 
lar apartment are different editions of his works, 
a snuff-box made from the wood of Alloway kirk, 
the Bible given by Burns to Highland Mary, and 
a copy of a portrait of Burns by Nasmith, the 


artist. Almost beneath the shadow of the monu- 
ment, in a grotto, are statues of Tam O'Shanter 
and Souter Johnny, which portray with great fidel- 
ity the characters as described. I visited other 
places made celebrated in connection with the 
poet, and like all tourists purchased many relics, 
and brought them to America. 

In a comfortable thatch-roofed cottage in Ayr 
lived Miss Beggs, a niece of Robert Burns. I 
called at the house, and sent in my card. In a 
few minutes I was shown up-stairs into the room 
where she was, and was received with great cor- 
diality. I said to her that it gave me the greatest 
pleasure to meet a niece of Robert Burns. She 
was a bright, sharp, witty lady of seventy-eight 
years, and spoke with evident pleasure of the fact 
that many Americans called to see her. "Scotch- 
men," she remarked, when speaking of her uncle, 
"would commence by apologizing for his faults: 
Americans said nothing about them." She spoke 
of a lovely American lady, who told her that when 
a child she had been reproved by her parents for 
reading and committing to memory Tam O'Shan- 
ter and other poems. The fair American said it 
mig-ht be foolish — she didn't know but it was; but 
this she did know, that when she died and went 
to heaven she wanted to get just as near Robert 
Burns as she possibly could. 

The night was spent at Ayr. The next morning, 
which was cool and frosty, the bells were rung, 



and at 5 o'clock the operatives in the different 
manufactories started for their places of work. 
Many of the women and girls were barefooted. 

Some had coverings for 
their heads, and some did 
not. Many walked two 
miles to the factories, with- 
out breakfast, where they 
worked an hour before coming out 
for the morning meal. They were 
not so well dressed as the opera- 
tives in American mills, and had 
a different air about them. The 
workers in any vocation in Great 
Britain or in Europe are not like the workers in 
the United States. The tillers of the soil there 
are greatly unlike the tillers of the soil in the 
United States. A plowman is not like the self- 
respecting farmer of America. I could not but 
note the painful difference between the tillers of 
the soil and the intelligent farmers of New Eng- 
land, with their comfortable, smiling homes, which 
they usually own, and the intelligent wives and 
lovely daughters who brighten the family circle. 
The same difference exists in other callings. One 
of the world's workers there is a nobody. 
■ Going east fourteen miles to Auchenleck, I 
scanned the public record for 200 years, and found 
many familiar names, particularly the name of 
Cochran. Nor is this strange, as this town was 


in the immediate vicinity of the oldest settlement 
of this well known family. 

The family of Cochran, or Cochrane, was never 
so large as to be a sept or clan, like many Scottish 
families. It is an ancient surname, and is derived 
from the Barony of Cochrane, in the county of 
Renfrew, very near Glasgow, and is the family 
name of the earls of Dundonald. About the ear- 
liest known mention of the name w^as that of Wal- 
denus de Coveran, or Cochran, who was witness 
to a charter of lands given to Walter Cumming, 
Earl of Monteith, in Skipness and Cantyre, in the 
year A. D. 1262. In 1296 William de Cochran 
was one of the Scotch barons who swore fealty 
to Edward I of England. Gosiline de Cochran 
lived in the reign of David II, and was father of 
William Cochran, from whom was descended the 
William Cochran who in 1576 obtained of Queen 
Mary the charter of confirmation of the lands of 
Cochran, erected the family seat, and adorned it 
with plantations. He was grandfather of Sir John 
Cochrane, colonel in the army of Charles I. He 
was succeeded by his brother, William Cochran of 
Cowdon, who was made Lord Cochrane of Ochil- 
tree in December, 1647, ^^^^ Earl of Dundonald 
in May, 1669. Members of the family have till a 
late date been prominent in politics and in the 
military service of Great Britain. It is fair to 
assume that the Cochrans in the American set- 
tlements, as they are of Scotch origin, are de- 


scended from some of the numerous and widely 
separated branches of this family. 

The road from Auchenleck to Glasgow is 
through a fine country filled with coal and iron 
works, whose huge chimneys belch forth, day 
after day and month after month, great columns 
of smoke, which blackens the atmosphere. Quan- 
tities of coal are brought to the surface, and vast 
piles of waste matter from iron lie upon the 
ground, sometimes thirty feet high, covering an 
acre of ground. Darker and smokier grew the 
atmosphere as we approached Glasgow, till, at 
Paisley, at times it was impossible to see the sun. 
The houses are begrimed with smoke, like those 
in Pittsburgh, Penn. We landed at St. Enoch's 
station in Glasgow late in the afternoon, and I 
registered at the St. Enoch's hotel. One fasci- 
nating feature about travelling in Great Britain 
is that the ~ railway companies own and manage 
excellent hotels at all large towns in close connec- 
tion with the stations, and a person can alight 
from the train and enter an elegant hotel without 
exposure to the weather. The St. Enoch's hotel 
is a large and fine establishment, and well man- 
aged. The greatly annoying custom of tipping 
attendants, which is so exasperating to travellers, 
is prohibited, and a servant known to receive a 
fee will be discharged. It was positively refresh- 
ing, an unbounded relief, to be free for a short 
time from the importunities of money-seeking and 
money-getting attendants. 


The stations in Glasgow are large, durable, 
solid, and costly structures, and, like everything 
built in Great Britian, they are erected to stand 
for all time. There is no shoddy about buildings 
in Great Britain. They are well constructed for 
the discharge of business, but there are no luxu- 
ries, barely comforts, for passengers. The waiting- 
rooms are inferior to those in America. There 
are many things in the management of railways 
which America can afford to copy. Everywhere 
the roads go either above or beneath the high- 
ways. Any one walking upon the track is liable 
to arrest and fine. At stations persons are not 
permitted to cross the tracks, but must follow the 
walk above or below. While these regulations 
are sometimes quite annoying, still they are 
right : life and limb are much better cared for 
than with us. The lanterns which light the car- 
riages are let down from the top, and fitted into 
the roof. That is the custom in Ireland, and I 
think in all Great Britain. Ticket offices are 
called booking offices. 

Glasgow is one of the great cities of the world. 
It is a place of great wealth, of business push, of 
beautiful parks, of many statues of illustrious peo- 
ple, of massive stone buildings ; is full of historic 
centres; has one of the most famous cathedrals in 
Great Britain, a noted Necropolis, and a University 
of high reputation. The river Clyde divides the 
city, and is spanned by numerous bridges of mar- 



vellous Strength and costliness, and as solid as 
the firm mountains. The railway bridges are 
equally substantial. One of the most wonderful 
achievements of modern times has been the im- 
provements of the Clyde. Citizens can remem- 
ber when boys could wade across it, in what is 
now the heart of the city. Dredging machines 
have been at work for many years ; the channel 
has been deepened and widened, and there is now 
an artificial harbor of twelve miles in approach, 
where the largest ships can come up to the piers. 
The river is walled in for miles. More than 
twenty-eight million dollars have been expended 
in these improvements, and they are an ever- 
lasting monument to the persistence of the Scotch 
character, and to the enterprise, push, and far- 
seeing sagacity of the citizens of Glasgow. 

George's square, in the centre of the city, is 
full of fountains and statues, walks and beds of 
flowers, with seats 

where the weary may 
rest. The statues 
and stone buildings 
soon become black- 
ened by the smoky 
atmosphere. The ca- 
thedral is the most 
interesting thing in 
Glasgow, and was founded in 1136. The build- 
ing is 319 feet in length, 63 feet in breadth, and 


90 feet high. The central tower is 225 feet high. 
Its display of stained glass in its windows sur- 
passes any other building in Great Britain. The 
external appearance is massive and substantial 
rather than beautiful. Alonof the sides and cut in 
stone are the heads of ghouls, devils, and all man- 
ner of hobgoblins. It is said that they were 
carved in the days of superstition, to drive away 
the devil and evil spirits. I cannot vouch for this, 
but they certainly looked frightful enough to an- 
swer that purpose. I frequently attended services 
there. The nave, once used as a church, is Gothic 
in style, with a high pitched roof, and is 155 feet 
long, and 30 feet between the aisles. In this 
cathedral, as in most if not all Episcopal churches 
in Great Britain, and in many cathedrals on the 
continent, religion and patriotism, or love of coun- 
try, go hand in hand. In the sides of the nave 
are slabs in memory of many a brave warrior 
"who died in the service of his queen and coun- 
try." Loyalty to the queen and royal family is 
the same as loyalty to the government, as the 
queen stands at the head. Those memorial tab- 
lets told the story of patriotism and self-sacrifice, 
and, generally, for what ? 

*' They told of trophies taken, 
Of deeds of valor done." 

The stained glass windows are beautiful. Many 
are memorial windows of some distinguished per- 
son or family, and adorned with arms or armorial 


trappings. The architecture of the choir, where 
services are holclen, is grand indeed. It is 97 
feet in length. There are the tall pillars, the 
hieh ceilinor, the stained windows, the deep- 
toned organ ; and the sweet voices of the singers, 
when services are held, make it a place of great 
attraction. There are 147 pillars and 159 windows 
in the cathedral. The crypt, or burial-place, un- 
derlies the choir, and is the basement of the cathe- 
dral. It surpasses all other structures of its kind 
in Great Britain. It is 108 feet long, 72 feet wide, 
and is supported by 65 pillars each 18 feet in 
height, and many of them 18 feet in circumfer- 
ence. The piers and groining are very intricate 
and beautiful in design and execution. The walls 
are lined with memorial tablets of some wise peo- 
ple, and of many very foolish ones. 

The denomination worshipping there is the 
Presbyterian, the Established Church of Scotland. 
Their forms of service were much like those of the 
Episcopal church, but more simple. The preacher 
was dressed in dark robes, and stationed in a 
small, high pulpit. This minister read hymns 
beautifully, for his soul was full of poetry, and re- 
sponded to the sentiments he uttered. He gave 
the rising inflection at the enci of a sentence — a 
common practice among Britons, and when well 
done is quite pleasing. At this church I saw the 
first Scotch audience, and was interested in look- 
ing over it, scanning their faces. They possessed 


Strong, thoughtful, intelligent countenances, but 
they seemed cold and stoical, lacking that warmth, 
keenness, vivacity, and variety of expression seen 
in a distinctively American assembly. 

In all of the churches I attended in Great Brit- 
ain, the Queen, the Prince of Wales, and all mem- 
bers of the royal family were prayed for with great 
force and unction, — and they need it ! Then the 
parliament is remembered, and the army and the 
navy; and God is asked to grant success to the 
British arms. It seemed to me that few petitions 
went up to heaven for that little portion of the 
world outside of Great Britain, nor many suppli- 
cations for the temporal or spiritual welfare of the 
poor fellows in Egypt or the Soudan, whom Brit- 
ish soldiers were consigning to hospitable graves, 
and whose souls they were sending unbidden into 
the presence of the King of kings and Lord of 
lords. The service in that respect seemed to me 
selfish, narrow, and unchristian, showing but little 
of the spirit of the Master. 

An ancient cemetery surrounds the cathedral, 
and probably one half is literally paved with grave- 
stones. The other portion is crowded with tombs 
hundreds of years old, monuments and memorials 
of by-gone generations, and one tomb to a num- 
ber of the covenanters who died martyrs to their 

The necropolis, on the east side of the Molin- 
dinar ravine, is an eminence 225 feet in height. 


It forms a noble backoround to the cathedral, and 
was once called the Fir park. It commands an 
excellent view of the city and the surrounding 
country, and it is celebrated for its beauty. The 
day was one of rare brightness when I visited it. 
Passing through the "Bridge of Sighs," I entered 
this resting-place of the dead. It was commenced 
in 1828, and now the entire surface of the rocky 
eminence is laid out with beautiful walks, beds of 
flowers, and terraced burying-lots. The entire hill 
is bristling with rare and costly monuments of 
various designs and beauty, and engraved upon 
them were many familiar family names. 

Having a letter to Mr. Michael Simons, I was 
received with much kindness. He is one of the 
strongest and most successful merchants of the 
city, and a member of the city council. He is a 
gentleman of marked ability, fluent of speech, and 
of great ease of manner. He conducted me into 
some of the most noted parts of the city ; and at 
his home, at 206 Bath street, he showed me some 
orders of decorations which King Alphonso of 
Spain had conferred upon him for opening and 
developing an extensive business in all kinds of 
fruits with Spain. 

On the north bank of the river Kelvin, on Gil- 
more hill, is the University of Glasgow, Kelvin 
grove, or West End park, finely laid out and cov- 
ering forty-five acres of ground, is in the imme- 
diate vicinity. Here is the fountain erected to 


commemorate the introduction of water into the 
city from Loch Katrine, forty-five miles away, sur- 
mounted by a bronze figure called the "Lady of 
the Lake." 

The Botanic Gardens are an adornment to the 
place. There are two free public libraries, but 
they are not so extensive nor so well conducted as 
the libraries in our largest cities. Considerable 
time was spent in Mitchell's library, which has 
many valuable and costly books of reference not 
generally found in libraries in the United States. 

The great markets are interesting to visit, where 
almost any article of either hemisphere can be 
bought. Many of the stalls are carried on by 
girls or women. Some of the best second-hand 
bookstores in the city are there. In all parts of 
Great Britain there are such stores, where val- 
uable works can be bought at reasonable rates, 
which cannot be said of first class stores, where 
my experience has taught me that the prices are 
exorbitant for either first or second editions, and 
are much higher than for books in this country. 

On the high grounds near the university are 
cannon "keeping watch and ward," which were 
captured from the Russians at Sebastopol. At 
another point is the Caledonian canal, running 
over a deep ravine and above the Kelvin river. 
It is an interesting point, and a triumph of engi- 
neering skill. 

I made the acquaintance of Rev. Donald Mor- 

IVf/A T'S IN A NAME ? I 1 5 

rison, LL. D., rector of Glasgow academy. The 
interview was an exceedingly pleasant one. He 
was a tall, dark, fine-looking man, who wore his 
robes and the Oxford cap. His family is from the 
north of Scotland; and much was my surprise to 
find that he was the brother of Rev. James Mor- 
rison, of Urquhart, Elgin, Scotland, with whom I 
had had an interesting correspondence several 
years before. Another brother is A. Morrison, 
LL. D.^ principal of Scotch college, Melbourne, 
Australia. It was interesting to learn, on more 
than one occasion, that the printed history of our 
common family had found its way across the Atlan- 
tic into the possession of clansmen. 

The Scotch names known in the American set- 
tlements are as thick as autumnal leaves. Prof. 
John Anderson founded the Anderson University 
in 1795; a street is named Cochran; and near 
each other were merchants named Barr, Wal- 
lace, and Morrison. In the Londonderry, N. H., 
settlement, more than i6o years ago, lived John 
Barr, keeper of a public house and a beer-seller; 
and here was a sign over a door, "John Barr, 
ale and beer-seller." What's in a name? The 
manner of naming streets greatly perplexes a 
stranger, as different ones are attached to differ- 
ing sections of the same one. A street which runs 
parallel with the Clyde in one part is called the 
" Gallow gate," as criminals were once executed 
there ; another portion is called the Tron gate, 


another Argyle street. The latter is the great busi- 
ness thoroughfare of Glasgow. Curious wynds, or 
closes, run off of these old streets, which once dis- 
played many features of taste and opulence, but 
now are smoky, dingy lanes, often leading to the 
homes of poverty, wretchedness, and crime. The 
older part of the city is far from attractive, while 
the new sections are elegant, with fine streets, 
circling terraces, imposing blocks, and mansions 
of the wealthy inhabitants. 

There are parks of beauty, magnificent bridges, 
great blocks, and public buildings, all so strongly 
constructed that they will last for centuries. The 
Clyde is one of the finest rivers of Scotland, 
Lovely villages, with houses of light sandstone, 
nestle upon its banks, among the encircling hills. 
At one point a wealthy land-owner had acres of 
plantations, where the trees were so arranged as 
to represent the different divisions of the contend- 
ing armies at Waterloo. 

An English gentleman was my companion in 
walks around Glasgow and vicinity, and who 
subsequently accompanied me in rambles in and 
around London, which was familiar ground to 
him. Visited Paisley, a dark, smoky town, eight 
miles from Glasgow. The streets are narrow, with 
houses covered with tile roofs. It is full of great 
works, whose tall chimneys continually belch forth 
volumes of smoke. The most interesting building 
is the abbey, founded in A. D. 1163. A part is 



in ruins, but a portion in perfect preservation is 
now used as a place of worship. Ten pillars, sev- 
enteen feet high, finely moulded, divide the aisles 
from the body of the nave. 

On the south side of the church there is a small 
chapel, called St. Mirren's aisle, possessing a re- 
markable echo, which has given it the name of 
the "Sounding aisle." This gallery has stained 
glass windows of costliness and beauty. 

Rising 700 feet in height, in plain view of the 
station, overlooking the city, are the "Braes of 
Gleniffer." They are a favorite resort, and are 
rendered famous by the genius of the sweet, sad 
poet, Robert Tannahill, born in Paisley, June 3, 
1774, who in a fit of melancholy drowned himself 
May 17. 1810. The hills, sharply outlined against 
the sky, could be plainly seen, and the several 
places which were favorite resorts of the poet. 

" Keen blaws the wind o'er the braes o' Gleniffer; 
The auld bastle turrets are covered vvi' snaw : 
How chang'd sin' the time that I met wi' my lover, 
Amang the green bushes by Stanley gree shaw." 

" The trees are a' bare, an' the birds mute an' dowie ; 

They shake the cauld drift frae their wings as they flee ; 
They chirp out their plaints, seeming wae for my Johnie : 
'Tis winter wi' them, an' it's winter wi' me." 

Among those to whom Scotland and the world 
owe a debt of gratitude, which can never be paid, 
for what they have done for Scotia, are Robert 
Burns, Jane Porter, Walter Scott, and Lord Ma- 


caulay, of the past, and William Black, of the pres- 
ent. By their writings they have made Scotland's 
fame secure forever. They have invested places, 
scenes, and people with wondrous charms. They 
have thrown around her mountains, her iron 
coasts, and her tossing seas a marvellous fascina- 
tion. They have made her heroes and heroines 
by their prominence seem like the gods and god- 
desses of ancient mythology. This is from a his- 
torical and literary standpoint : from a practical 
and financial view, the debt is still as great. In 
consequence of their writings, many thousands of 
visitors from the four quarters of the globe throng 
the land every year to visit the hallowed spots — 
and leave their money. It is safe to assert that 
no five business men have ever been of so much 
practical and financial value to Scotland as these 
rare authors, who have charmed the world with 
the products of their brain. 

Jane Porter was the gifted author of "The Scot- 
tish Chiefs." Many happy hours in my childhood 
were spent in its perusal, and not till the " flood- 
gates of life are closed in rest" can be effaced from 
my memory and heart the admiration which it 
taught me for Sir William Wallace. With power 
has she drawn the quiet beauty of Elderslie, the 
attractions of his home, the grace, the loveliness, 
the charm of manner of Wallace's companion, and 
the fact that their souls were knit together by the 
strong, tender ties of deep affection. 



My friend and I visited Elderslie. It is a strag- 
gling village of some seventy-five houses, inhab- 
ited by operatives. The country is still pretty, but 
not romantic. We passed over the ground once 
pressed by the feet of the Scottish chieftain, and 
visited the dwelling which stands upon the spot 
where his house stood. We saw what is reputed to 
be the original fireplace of Wallace's house. Over 
this, a little at one side and three and a half feet 
from the floor, is an underground passage perhaps 
twenty rods in length, which emerges in a gar- 
den near where Wallace's oak stood. Through 
this he is said to have escaped from his enemies, 
and secreted himself in an oak. The spot where 
the latter stood is still pointed out. A large yew- 
tree several hundred years of age grows near the 
house. With the permission of the proprietor I 
climbed into it and cut some sprigs, which were 
preserved as a reminder of the home of the Scot- 
tish chieftain. 

On April 25th my friend and I sailed down the 
Clyde to Rothesay, in the island of Bute, which is 
one of the pleasantest excursions on the river. 
The walls along the banks must be some twenty- 
five feet in height, as they go deep into the water. 
A short distance from the city is the large brick 
factory of an American firm, "The Singer Sewing 
Machine Co." 

The Clyde is lined with ship-yards, as this is 
the greatest ship-building place in the world. 



Ships on the stocks were as numerous as leaves 
on forest trees, and the workmen on all parts of 
the vessels were as thick as bees around the 
mouth of a hive, and the noise they made was 
deafening. We passed Dumbarton castle, a mile 
in circumference, and which rises two hundred and 

forty feet out of the 
water. "Wallace's 

peak " is the high- 
est point. It is a 
place of great an- 
tiquity, and ancient- 
ly one of the impor- 
tant strongholds of 
Scotland. It is a wild, romantic spot. On the 
return we visited Greenock. The new cemetery 
is on a sloping hill, 300 feet above the sea, and its 
situation is beautiful. 

Greenock is naturally interesting. But not its 
native beauty alone would cause the traveller to 
prolong his stay. That which gives it its celebrity 
is the fact that in its old cemetery lies buried one, 
attractive in herself, whom the love and adoration 
of one man, with the magic of his pen, have made 
immortal, whose resting-place is historic, and to 
which pilgrims come from every clime. It is the 
grave of Mary Campbell, the dairy-maid, known 
the world over as Burns's "Highland Mary," one 
who was to have been his bride. He loved his 
Highland Mary with a constancy which never 


faltered in its devotion, which from its nature 
could know no death. When her footsteps fal- 
tered, when her feet touched the cold waters of 
the river of death, then he "trod the wine-press" 
of sorrow alone, and from his suffering soul came 
forth the purest, truest sentiments he ever ex- 
pressed. The dross was burned away, the pure 
gold was revealed, the diamond shone with bright- 
est lustre. On the anniversary of the day on 
which he heard of her death he gave expression 
to his feelings in an address to " Mary in Heaven." 

" Thou ling'ring star, with less'ning ray, 
That lov'st to greet the early morn, 
Again thou usher'st in the day 

My Mary from my soul was torn. 
* * * * 

" My Mary, dear departed shade, 

Where is thy blissful place of rest ? " 

In "David Copperfield" Steerforth said, "Think 
of me at my best," a custom not always followed 
"in the corrupted currents of this world," This 
poem showed Burns at his best. From this deep 
grief, his great loss, and abiding sorrow, his an- 
guished spirit found expression in one of the 
sweetest sonnets ever penned. The pathos of no 
sweeter song ever made responsive chords in 
human hearts vibrate with livelier sympathy. P^or 
him life's grief, life's loss, life's great calamity, 
brought their compensation ; they developed and 
revealed in him a sympathy, tenderness, and nobil- 
ity never dreamed of before. Had Mary lived, 


that poem would never have been written. That 
evidence of the deep tenderness of his nature, that 
monument of his genius, would not excite the 
sympathy and admiration of all time. As a conse- 
quence the world forgives much in the life and 
character of Burns. 

In the Old West Kirk cemetery is her grave. 
Above her rises a marble shaft, with figures rep- 
resenting her last parting from Burns, and below 
is a poetical quotation. 

over the grave of 
Highland Mary, 

My Mary, dear departed shade, 
Where is thy home of blissful rest ? 

An iron railing surrounds the lot. With the 
permission of the guide I cut a few leaves from a 
shrub which grew above her, and pressing them 
out carefully I sent them to widely separated 
friends in the United States as precious memen- 
tos of her, the loved of Burns, who was cut down 
in her beautiful youth ! 

The kirk is an ancient structure, founded in 
1589. James Watt, the utilizer of steam, is there 
buried. Among the surnames on tombstones fa- 
miliar to us in America are those of Peter Camp- 
bell, John Brown, John Morrison, Malcolm Mc- 
Gregor, James Ramsay, and John Allison. Mem- 
bers of the Jameson family, and others, are among 
the quiet sleepers. 


Twelve miles from the city of Glasgow are two 
of the early homes of the Nesmith or Naesmith 
family: one is at Hamilton, and one at Auchingray- 
mont, also in the county of Lanark. The name 
is said to have originated in this way : Between 
September 8, 1249, when Alexander III of Scot- 
land was crowned king, and March 16, 1286, 
when he died, the legend runs that an aide-de- 
camp of the king, on the eve of a battle, was 
required by him to mend his armor. Though a 
man of powerful physique, and a brave warrior, 
he was unsuccessful as a mechanic. For his 
prowess, great daring, and heroic achievements in 
the battle he was knighted by the king with this 
laconic saying, that "although he was nae smith, 
he was a brave gentleman." The armorial bear- 
ings of the family refer to this remark. A drawn 
sword between two war hammers or "martels" 
broken, with the motto in old Scotch dialect, "Not 
by knaverie \i. e., art or skill] but by braverie." 
The Naesmiths of Posso, in the county of Peebles, 
are the head of this family, and descendants of the 
gallant knight. They have owned land on the 
Tweed since the 13th century. Hamilton and 
Auchingraymont are only a short distance from 
Posso. At the former place the male line became 
extinct in Arthur Nesmith in 1765. The ances- 
tor of the Nesmith family of New Hampshire and 
Massachusetts emigrated from Scotland to the 
shores of the river Bann, in the north of Ireland, 


in 1690. He had a son Arthur who died in Ire- 
land ; another son Arthur who died in London- 
derry, N. H. ; and the name has been perpetuated 
in every generation save one to the present. This 
is strong presumptive evidence that these are 
branches of the same family. There were John 
and Thomas Nesmith, of Pennsylvania, in 1730, 
who left descendants, who are unquestionably of 
the same family, as the same names appear as 
among the Nesmiths in Scotland. 

On Saturday, April 26, I left Glasgow for Edin- 
burgh, passing through a rich and highly culti- 
vated country. It was a great surprise to me to 
find such excellent land, and yielding such abun- 
dant harvests. The lowlands are a fine country, 
agriculturally considered, as the rich, well culti- 
vated fields fully attested. Women and children 

work much in 
the fields, as 
they do in all 
parts of Eu- 
rope. One of 
the most im- 
portant places 

Linlithgow Castle. between Glas- 

gow and Edinburgh was Linlithgow, an old town 
dating from the 12th century. Linlithgow palace 
could be seen standing on the margin of a lake. 
It was once a favorite resort of the royal family of 
Scotland. It is described by Walter Scott in 
"Marmion" as follows: 


*' Of all the palaces so fair, 
Built for the royal dwelling 
In Scotland, far beyond compare, 
Linlithgow is excelling." 

There Queen Mary was born Dec. 7, 1542. In 
1745-46 it was reduced to its present ruinous 
condition. On the route we passed remains of 
the Roman wall, built in the early part of the 
Christian era. Our road ran along for some dis- 
tance by the side of the "old wall," and inter- 
sected it at one point. Huge mounds of earth, 
resembling the remains of a railway, green with 
grass, is about all there is to mark the work of the 
Roman builders. Thus time levels, smooths, and 
will finally obliterate that great work of the invad- 
ing yet civilizing conquerors. 



WDINBURGH at last burst upon our view. 
MT We reached the outskirts, passed the city of 
the dead, and entered the city of the hving. The 
train ghded along the valley in which are situated 
the Princes Street Gardens, where was once a 
river, at the very base of the grandest old casde 
in Europe, which looked down frowningly upon 
us, and entered the Waverly station. Ascending 
long flights of stone steps, we were on Princes 
street, the finest in Edinburgh. A drizzling 
rain was falling, such a rain as is liable to come 
every fifteen minutes during the brightest, sun- 
niest day that ever dawned on Edinburgh. I se- 
cured very comfortable apartments at No. 7 Fred- 
erick street, within a stone's throw of Princes 
street, and in plain view of the casde. From the 
house one could see the red-coated soldiers, hear 
the booming gun at sunrise and sunset, the re- 
veille call, and listen to the beating drums and the 
playing of the bagpipes. By securing lodgings 
one is relieved of the intolerable nuisance of 
being obliged, after paying an exorbitant hotel 
bill, of feeing half a score of servants. I enjoyed 


apartments very much, and secured them in all 
the cities where my stay was for any considerable 
time. My room was as cosey and homelike in an 
hour's time after I secured it as if it had always 
been my home. When I returned in the evening 
the door of my room stood invitingly open, and 
the gas was lighted. An open coal fire burned 
cheerily on the hearth, the large arm-chair was 
trundled up before it, and the bedspread thrown 
back ready for my night's repose. These people 
have a wonderful faculty of making their guests 

Persons occupying apartments do not board 
with the family letting them rooms, but each one 
orders the kind of food wished, which is cooked, 
and served in his room. He might live for weeks 
and months and never meet to speak with the 
person occupying the next apartment. In Ireland 
and Scotland, Scotch porridge is the universal 
dish for breakfast. It is known as oatmeal pud- 
ding in the United States. Mutton chop is con- 
sidered preferable to beef. 

Among my fellow-lodgers were Mrs. Patterson 
and daughter. The former was a widow of Col. 
Patterson of the British army. They were near 
relatives of Mrs. Patterson of Baltimore, the first 
wife of Jerome Bonaparte. There was also a Mr. 
Smith, a very bright young law student, graduate 
of Edinburgh University, and a direct descendant 
of Flora McDonald. 



The entrance to houses is often by a spiral 
stone staircase to reach the different stories or 

I was now in Edinburgh, the Queen City of 
Scotland, so beautiful for situation, so romantic in 
her history, and which is adorned with the strong 
battlements of the Old Castle as a coronet on her 
brow. Paris and Brussels surpass her in artificial 
beauty, but for those charms which come from nat- 
ure's own lavish hand few cities in the world can 

equal her. I was delight- 
ed with Edinburgh and 
with her people. 

The castle is the most 
renowned one in Europe. 
It stands on a precipitous 
rock 383 feet above the 
level of the sea, and cov- 
ers an area of six acres. 
It consists of barracks for 
2,000 soldiers, and an armory for 300,000 stand 
of arms. Here, keeping watch and guard, and 
mounted high on the parapet of old Edingburgh's 
castle, — the king's bastion, — and overlooking the 
wonderful panorama of city and country and sea, 
lies Mons Meg, the famous piece of ordnance 
which is said to have been forged at Mons in Bel- 
gium in 1476. James IV employed it at the 
siege of Dumbarton in 1489. It burst when fir- 
ing a salute in honor of the duke of York in 


1682; was removed to the Tower of London in 
1754; and was restored to Scodand through the 
intervention of Scott in 1829. It is about twenty 
inches in diameter, and is composed of thick iron 
bars looped together. 

Near where this monster gun is lying is the 
small chapel of St. Margaret, founded before i\. D. 
1093. In a room of the castle was born King 
James I of England. When eight days old the 
future king was put into a basket, and from a 
window lowered down the precipitous sides of 
the cliff, several hundred feet, to the ground 
below. The Crown Room contains the regalia so 
precious to all Scotchmen, and guarded with jeal- 
ous care. There is the crown of pure gold, dating 
from the time of Robert Bruce, a sword of state, 
the sceptre, the rod of office of the lord treasurer, 
the royal jewels, the order of the garter, the 
badge of the thistle, and the coronation ring of 
Charles I. All these are of exceeding interest, 
and carry one's mind backward over the vanished 
centuries. From the high walls surrounding the 
castle is obtained an excellent view of the city 
and the country around. The Princes Street 
Gardens, at the base of the castle, are a part of a 
narrow vale extending from the western extremi- 
ty of Castle Rock to the south-east base of Calton 
Hill. This valley was once covered by a lake call- 
ed the North Loch ; and on this spot, now so lovely 
with gravelly walks, and trees and beds of flowers 



of endless variety, adorned with statues, and where 
waters sparkle and glisten as they issue from 
streaming fountains — on this spot, now almost 
a fairy land, in 1398, then a lake, was held a brill- 
iant tournament under the auspices of the rulers 
of Scotland. This ravine divides old Edinburgh 
from the new, and across it are 
built solid, spanning bridges firm 
as the earth. 

Overlooking this fairy-like vale 
is the monument to Walter Scott, 
erected in 1840-44 at a cost of 
$78,000. It is 200 feet high, and 
adorned with thirty-two statuettes 
Scott's Monument, of prominent characters mentioned 
in the novels of Scott, besides a sitting statue of 
the great novelist. From the summit is a pleas- 
ing view of the city. Near by is the royal insti- 
tution containing the Antiquarian Museum and 
Statue Gallery. The museum contains the most 
valuable collection of antiquities in Scotland. 

At the eastern portion of the city rises Calton 
Hill, 344 feet above sea level. Numerous mon- 
uments adorn it. I wended my way to the top 
of Nelson's monument, from which I looked down 
some 400 feet to see the people and carriages 
travelling in the streets. The country for miles 
around was distinctly visible. On the west is Prin- 
ces street, with its array of monuments and a sea 
of buildings, with the castle over which floated 


gaily the flag of Great Britain; on the south 
are the unattractive portions of old Edinburgh; 
on the north is the new town ; and to the east is 
the Firth of Forth, with Bass Rock rising from the 
waters. The National monument, commenced in 
honor of the soldiers who died at Waterloo, re- 
mains in an unfinished condition. 

The University of Edinburgh dates from A. D. 
1582. Its library exceeds 150,000 volumes, and 
its students number more than 1800 men. 

I attended services the first Sabbath at the cel- 
ebrated church of St. Giles, of the established 
Presbyterian denomination. In this building, on 
the 13th of October, 1643, the Solemn League 
and Covenant (which gave rise to the term Cove- 
nanter) was sworn to and subscribed by the Com- 
mittee of Estates of Parliament, the commission 
of the church, and the English commission. By 
the walls of the building are the tombs of the 
Regent Murray and Marquis of Montrose. Com- 
ino- out of the church, my attention was attracted 
by the figure of a heart in the pavement of the 
street, which marks the site of the old Tolbooth 
gaol, commonly called the "Heart of Midlothian," 
which, in a book of that name, has been immor- 
talized by Scott. At one side of the church is 
' Parliament square. The ground occupied by 
this and a portion of the old Parliament House of 
Scotland was originally the cemetery of St. Giles's 
church. Near the centre of the square, between 


the church and parhament building, in the pave- 
ment, there is a hght stone about eighteen inches 
square, marked I-K, 1572. Here rests in his 
last long sleep the great Scotch reformer John 
Knox. Since the union of Scotland and England, 
the Parliament House is used by the supreme 
courts. The entire walls of the great hall of par- 
liament are lined with portraits of many of the 
best sons of Scotland. In another portion is the 
Advocates' library, of more than 300,000 volumes, 
and near it the Signet library, of 50,000 volumes, 
and together they make the most valuable library 
in Great Britain, with the exception of that in the 
British Museum, London. The rarest books are 
elegantly bound. There was a copy of the Bible 
written by hand in letters as distinct as printed 
ones. It was executed in the 12th century, and 
after 600 years they are as clear and black as if 
printed yesterday. 

Rev. Horatius Bonar, d. d., author of many 
charming religious hymns, is pastor of a church 
in the city. I went to hear him, but failed, and 
the same sunny Sabbath afternoon visited the 
Grange Road cemetery, where some are sleeping 
whose lives honored Scotland and benefited man- 
kind. There was the grave of Rev. Thomas 
Guthrie, d. d., and of Rev. Thomas Chalmers, 
D.D., LL. D., the distinguished and eloquent divine, 
born March 17, 1780, and died at Morningside, 
near Edinburgh, May 31, 1847. There, near him, 



resting peacefully, was the great self-taught 
Scotch geologist Hugh Miller, who died Decem- 
ber 24, 1856. Others known to fame are buried 

Passing out of the cemetery I entered the 
Queen's park, with its beautiful hard road, which 
leads around Salisbury Crag to Arthur's Seat. 
The drive is ascending, and encircles the moun- 
tain. A little lake nestles at the mountain's base. 
Arthur's Seat is the topmost pinnacle of the 
mountain, 822 feet high. For a wonder the day 
was bright and the atmosphere comparatively clear, 
so that the country for miles around was to be seen. 
Holyrood palace was in the vale beneath, while 


in the far beyond, hills and mountains with their 
dark summits bounded the view. Descending, St. 
Anthony's chapel, which once belonged to the cell 
of a hermit, was inspected, while at the foot of a 
high rock gushed forth a stream of pure water 
dedicated to him. 

One pleasant afternoon I visited Holyrood pal- 
ace and abbey, which are connected. The latter 


is said to have been founded about A. D. 1128, 
when Holyrood became the home of royalty. It 
was the principal residence of Mary Queen of 
Scots, the charming and unfortunate queen, and 
the scene of the most important transactions of 
her court. In spite of this fact, however, there is 
hardly an old or ruined castle in Scotland in which 
the tourist is not told that Queen Mary spent a 
night in it, which makes the place sacred for- 
ever, of course. The palace became the home 
of Charles X after his expulsion from France in 
1830. and of Louis Philippe in 1848. Most inter- 
esting are the historic rooms and places con- 
nected with the life of the beautiful queen. They 
remain as when occupied by her. There is the 
audience chamber, near it her bed-chamber with 
the ancient furniture and the bed she occupied, 
with its quilts and the tapestry of the room so old, 
worn, and frail that the slightest breeze would rend 
them in tatters. On one side of the room is the 
secret passage by which the assassins entered 
when they assassinated Rizzio. 

A passage leads from her apartments to the 
chapel, a part of the ancient abbey, which is in 
ruins. The tombs of those once powerful, with 
many members of the royal family and nobility, 
are there. A portion is literally paved with 
grave-stones. In the palace is a picture gallery 
where the walls are lined with good and indiffer- 
ent pictures of Scottish kings. A portion of the 


palace is still occupied by Queen Victoria on her 
visits, which, like angels' visits, are few and far 
between. My gentlemanly attendant, Mr. Ander- 
son, informed me that the public was not admit- 
ted. Not being the "public," but a private Amer- 
ican citizen, I could see no possible objection to 
my inspecting that part of the palace. Tapping 
with the brass knocker upon the door of the gen- 
tleman who had it in charge, I was ushered in, and 
sent in my card. He made his appearance, when 
my desires were explained, and he very kindly, 
and contrary to custom, sent an attendant who 
showed me over the remaining portion of Holy- 
rood palace. There was the room with the throne 
at one end, and various other apartments with 
ancient tapestried furniture, costly mirrors, and 
elegant ceilings. 

Part of the most repulsive portion of Edinburgh 
is near the palace — so closely are splendor and 
squalor, pride and poverty, palace and hut, con- 

Emerging from the palace, I entered at once 
the Canongate, a street once the abode of the 
rich, — the learning, wit, fashion, and beauty of 
Edinburgh. Out of now repulsive tenements 
bright eyes once looked, of the fairest, sweet- 
est, and most cultured people of Scotland. The 
houses preserve their ancient appearance. Circu- 
lar stairways, partially on the exterior, lead to all 
the stories. Narrow, curious wynds or closes run 


at right angles from the street, which often lead 
to ancient orardens of the former dwellers. The 
wynds are unclean and repulsive, and no one 
would penetrate them except for their historic 
interest. Each close has a history: it generally 
led to the residence of some illustrious man. 
Old names are there, and the arms of noble fam- 
ilies can still be traced above some of the doors 
of entrance. Houses once the abode of the 
proudest nobles of Scotland are occupied by pov- 
erty-stricken and degraded tenants. 

It is marvellously interesting to go up and 
down Canongate, and muse over the past and the 
transitions Time has wrought. Through this street 
the most illustrious men and women passed daily. 
There went John Knox the great reformer, the 
iron-willed protector Oliver Cromwell, Robert 
Burns the poet of the soil, David Hume the his- 
torian, and Ben Jonson. It was familiar ground 
to Walter Scott, who has invested it all with a 
wonderful interest. Historic places and buildings 
are now the homes of a drunken, thieving, disor- 
derly population. Such is the difference between 
the past and the present. 

Coming up the Canongate from Holyrood, one 
sees the Moray house, built in 16 18, and occupied 
by Cromwell before and after the battle of Dun- 
bar, and between 1648-50. Near by is the Can- 
ongate church, in the cemetery of which are inter- 
red Adam Smith and the poet Ferguson. The 



Canongate Tolbooth, built in 1591, is a sombre- 
looking structure, with a projecting clock which 
overhangs the narrow sidewalk. There is the 
house of John Knox, provided for him in 1559 
when he was elected minister of Edinburgh, and 
where he lived till his death, November 24, 1572. 
The house consists of three rooms — sitting-room, 
with study and bed-room. 

In another part of the city is the Grey Friars 
church, which takes its name from an ancient 
monastery of Grey 
Friars, established 
at the Grass Mar- 
ket close at hand. 
The first was erect- 
ed in 1612, and it 
was there the first 
signatures of the 
National Covenant 
were appended in 
1638. The present church was built since 1845. 
The cemetery is ancient, and was once the garden 
of the monastery. After the stormy events of 
life, there rest many noted persons. I visited 
this cemetery early on a morning in spring, and 
saw the various points of interest. But this place 
has great celebrity from the fact that here is the 
Martyrs' monument, marking the place where re- 
pose the headless "Martyrs of the Covenant." 
Against a wall in the lower part of the cemetery 


the tomb is situated, and on it is an inscription 
telling the story how some one hundred nobles, 
ministers, and gentlemen, "noble martyrs for 
Jesus Christ, were executed at Edinburgh at the 
time of the Restoration, and interred here." 
Only a few of the most historic points of Edin- 
burgh have been alluded to. The places of inter- 
est in new Edinburgh are many. Their pub- 
lic buildings are on a magnificent scale, built to 
stand for ages. The museums, churches, hos- 
pitals, theatres, post-ofhce, massive bridges, and 
other things of a public nature, are elegant, solid, 
and enduring. 

My experiences during a stay of nearly a fort- 
night in Edinburgh were very, very pleasant. I 
was treated with great kindness by persons whose 
acquaintance was made. Several years before, it 
was my privilege to become quite well acquainted 
by correspondence with Capt. F. W. L. Thomas, 
R. N., and vice-president of the Society of Anti- 
quaries of Scotland. He was author of "Tra- 
ditions of the Morrisons," rather a remarkable his- 
torical pamphlet, which, with his consent, was 
embodied in the " History of the Morison or Mor- 
rison Family." My presence in Edinburgh was 
made known to him, and I was immediately in- 
vited to visit him at his pleasant and hospitable 
home at Rosepark, Trinity, Edinburgh. There he 
and his good wife gave me the warmest greeting, 
and treated me with all the kindness of a life-long 


friend. At their home I was a frequent caller. 
To Henry Armour, Esq., whose acquaintance was 
made at Peebles, I was indebted for many courte- 
sies. He called for me at my temporary home 
with his team, and drove me over the larger part 
of the city, introduced me to his relatives and 
friends, and dined me at his club. 

Dr. Anderson, a very intelligent, able man of 
the antiquarian society and museum, showed 
me courtesies. I met frequently and became 
well acquainted with the U. S. consul, Mr. Oscar 
Malmross, an agreeable gentleman from Minne- 
sota. Other persons it was my privilege to meet 
whose acquaintance was both pleasant and prof- 

From Dean bridge, io6 feet above the bed of 
the river Leith, the view is one of the loveliest 
in the whole vicinity. Among the narrow streets 
or closes, seven or eight feet in width, is one not 
far from St. Giles's church, where the buildings 
on either side rise to a great height. One is sur- 
prised at the spiral staircases which go to the top- 
most story. 

The General Register House is near the gen- 
eral post-office, and is a large and fine building, 
where are deposited most of the public registers 
and records of all towns or parishes in Scotland. 
The principal building has more than one hundred 
apartments, where the public business is trans- 
acted. The charge is five dollars for a general 


search among wills, the same for records of 
births, deaths, or marriages, or sixty-two cents for 
every forty years one searches over. But let no 
American "take the flattering unction to his soul" 
that he will have an easy time in hunting out and 
proving a claim to property to which he may be 
an heir. He will have to pay liberally for every 
step he takes, and obstacles in his way will cer- 
tainly not be removed by British officials to aid 
him in getting what is justly his. They are sus- 
picious of Americans, and will not readily aid in 
the transfer of British fortunes to America. The 
records are professedly free for literary or histor- 
ical purposes, but the rules are vexatious. It 
was necessary for me to show letters which I 
bore from different American societies; and after 
considerable delay the records were consulted 
without further difficulty, and every attention was 
subsequently shown me. Our acquaintance ri- 
pened fast into the most friendly regard; and 
before leaving 1 had an admiration for the ster- 
ling qualities and kind hearts underneath such 
cool, calculating exteriors. But why should one 
be repelling at the start? Why should it be nec- 
essary to break through the outside crust so as to 
reach a person, and then to thaw out the individ- 
ual? Life is too short, its affairs are too press- 
ing; and in the great majority of cases the result 
would not compensate for the trouble. 

Among other things found in this office, and 


among the many surnames familiar in America, 
was a will of Alexander Park, dated February 6, 
1 691; one of Margaret Dinsmuir, of Dunlop, 
dated May 14, 1688; one of Allan Anderson, of 
Dunlop, dated June 20, 1694. 

In closing this, and giving my impressions, I 
will say that British officials and Britons, as a rule, 
generally have an arrogant air, a cool exterior, 
and think themselves as good, certainly, as the 
rest of created mortals. This is not surprising, 
considering that they have little to broaden their 
ways of thinking, and are not travellers and 
brought in contact with the great world. Their 
home is in the little islands of Great Britain, 
where it is dangerous for one to go to walk in the 
dark for fear of stepping into the ocean ! They 
are slow, conservative, old-fashioned, and narrow 
in their views. They are a people with a cool 
exterior, but with good hearts when you get to 
them. They are solid, substantial, with a large 
amount of good common-sense. They know so 
much, I was surprised that in many things they 
did not know more ! 

This closes my life in Edinburgh, the beautiful 
city. 1 love to dwell upon the pleasant days 
spent in this charming place, and to review the 
rambles among her famous localities. A strong 
fascination clings to them as they pass before my 



EFORE leaving the United States, a friend, 
^ George W. Armstrong, Esq., President of the 
Armstrong Transfer Company, Boston, Mass., de- 
sired me, if possible, to find the early home upon 
the border, of his family or clan, and to visit the 
old haunts. At Castle Rock, Ireland, I struck the 
trail. This was developed at Edinburgh, and the 
home was located in the towns of. Cannobie, New 
Castleton, Kershopfoot, and other places in the 
immediate vicinity, near the English border. On 
May 5 I left the Waverly station for the " Debat- 
able Land " and the English border, one hundred 
miles away. The day was delightful. The country 
south of Edinburgh is a fine agricultural section, 
the land being rich and well cultivated. The 
people were at work upon the land, and often 
six or seven women and boys would be seen fol- 
lowing a cart and picking up the rocks from the 
well laid down fields. 

Reaching Melrose, the home of Walter Scott at 
Abbotsford, three miles away, was my objective 
point. I shook myself clear of cabmen, and 
walked to Abbotsford, and enjoyed the novelty. 



It is over a hard road, and through a country 
pleasing to the eye. Scott's home is situated on 
the south bank of the Tweed, in a romantic spot, 
with the high hills for a background. 

The entrance is at a wicket gate at the right 
of the highway, and the 
mansion lies hidden in the 
vale beneath. The place 
is still in possession of the 
relatives of the great poet. 
A shilling is charged for 
admission. With other vis- 
itors, I was ushered by a 
lady attendant into the 
study, a most interesting room. His plain arm- 
chair, covered with black leather, still stands in 
close proximity to a few books and a small writ- 
ing-table. A private spiral staircase led to his 
bed-room. The attendant led the way into a large 
apartment, which was the poet's library. Its roof 
is of oak, and some of the fine carvings, which I 
afterwards saw at Roslin chapel, are reproduced 
here. This literary workshop of Scott's contains 
20,000 volumes, and was very different from that 
of the Ayrshire poet, Robert Burns. The draw- 
ing-room has portraits of the poet and of Oliver 
Cromwell. The dining-room, not always open to 
visitors, was shown us, with its large number of 
pictures. Here Scott died, September 21. 1832. 
Each morning during his last illness he required 


his attendant to move him near the window, where 
he gazed with dehght upon the gently flowing 
waters of the Tweed. It was separated from the 
mansion by a finely laid out and beautifully kept 
lawn of a few rods in width. 

The guide called our attention to the suit of 
clothes worn by Scott before his last sickness. 
In a long- box is the broad-skirted grreen coat with 
its large buttons, the Scotch plaid trousers, the 
hat with its broad brim, the heavy shoes, and the 
cane. The armory and hall were most interest- 
ing. The walls are hung with many varieties of 
ancient armor and implements of warfare. There 
are the richly emblazoned arms of various border 
families, such as the Kerr, now generally called 
Carr, the Douglass, the Armstrong, the Scott, the 
Elliot, the Turnbull, the Maxwell, and the Chis- 
holm. These were of great interest to me, as I 
was on a pilgrimage to the "Debatable Land," the 
homes of these rival and oftentimes contending 
clans. The floor was made of white marble and 
black marble, brought from the Hebrides. In the 
garden adjoining the mansion are statues and 
relics, and the outer walls are heavy with the 
dense ivy. 

While wandering over this place, so Interesting 
to every intelligent person, one could not but 
think of the mighty influence which had gone 
forth from this retreat among the hills, and which 
will endure always. It was the fruit of his genius 


and facile pen, and spoke of his abounding patri- 
otism and love of the Fatherland. He made 
famous forever multitudes of Scottish places, to 
which thousands of tourists yearly go, rendering 
their meed of praise to Sir Walter Scott. His 
writinofs enriched Scotch literature, and benefited 
mankind ; they also enriched and will continue 
to enrich year by year the purses of Scotchmen 
by hundreds of thousands of dollars, gathered 
from the multitude of tourists who throng Scot- 
land. Thus doubly was he the benefactor of his 
native land. 

The poet belonged to the clan of Scott which 
in its several branches in different localities of 
Scotland has been so numerous and powerful for 
many centuries. He was of the Harnden branch, 
which was from the Buccleuch family, and accord- 
ing to the genealogy prepared by Sir Walter Scott 
himself, is traced back to Uchtred Fitz-Scott, or 
Filius Scott, who flourished during the reign of 
David I, and who witnessed two charters, granted 
by that monarch in 1 128 and 1 130. It is supposed 
that the Barony of Scottstown in the county of 
Peebles was possessed by the forefathers of Uch- 
tred since the days of Kenneth III. Peebles is 
only a short distance from Abbotsford. The land 
possessions of this family have been greater than 
those of any other Scottish family; its members 
have also held high rank in worth and titles. The 
present head of the race is the Duke of Buc- 


cleuch, who owns vast tracts of country near the 
border of England, and who has a palatial sum- 
mer residence at Bowhill, near the confluence of 
the Ettrick and Yarrow rivers. The clan of Scott 
on the border were noted freebooters in their 
day, and were called the "Saucy Scotts." The 
family is still numerous. Many representatives 
of the race are in America. Wherever a person 
by the name of Scott is met, it is pretty safe to 
assert that he or his ancestors are an offshoot of 
the ancient clan. This remark is equally true of 
the Armstrongs, Chisholms, Johnstons, Kerr or 
Carr, Douglass, Elliot, Turnbull, and other septs 
or clans in Scotland. 

Leaving the quiet, sequestered retreat of Ab- 
botsford, I returned to Melrose by another route. 
There were plantations of trees planted by hand, 
running through or completely around large tracts 
of land, which added beauty to the landscape. 
The soil is red, similar to that in parts of New 
Jersey. Melrose is a neat, solid-looking place of 
about 2,000 people. Many of its streets are built 
of light sandstone, slightly tinctured by a reddish 
color, which is attractive. The village lies in the 
valley of the Tweed, while the Eildon hills rise 
1,385 feet above it. On entering the village, 
desirinof some information, I addressed a fine old 
gentleman, when he exclaimed, "I don't know 
you, sir!" He was quickly assured that I was 
aware of the fact, and that it was probably one of 


the greatest misfortunes of his Hfe that he hadn't 
the pleasure of my acquaintance. I explained to 
him that I was an American, and would like some 
information on various points. The cold exterior 
of the Scotchman thawed with my explanation, 
and we walked into the village in loving converse, 
like old acquaintances. Britons consider it a 
breach of good manners to speak without an 
introduction ; Americans do not always stand on 

The chief object in Melrose is the famous 
abbey, now in ruins. It was founded by David I 
in 1136, completed in 1146, destroyed by Edward 
II of England in 1322, and rebuilt from funds fur- 
nished by King Robert Bruce. The Duke of 
Buccleuch is proprietor, and protects it from 
further devastation. It is beautiful even in its 
ruins. Its architecture is considered by good 
judges the most nearly perfect of any in existence. 
The choir of the abbey and its stone roof still 
exist. Within the abbey rest in dreamless sleep 
the bodies of venerable priests, brave warriors, 
and fair dames. The guide pointed out the place 
where w^as buried the heart of King Robert Bruce, 
after an unsuccessful attempt to carry it to the 
Holy Land. Not many years ago his skeleton 
was discovered, with the breast bones sawn 
asunder, which was clone when his heart was re- 
moved. There King Alexander II is buried. 
John Morow, who claimed to be the first grand 


master of the Freemason lodge of Melrose, is 
there interred. An ancient kneeling-stone is 
standing upright, with an inscription, " Pray for 
the soul of brother Peter, the treasurer." No ex- 
planation is given. Had he absconded with the 
funds of the abbey? Walter Scott, in his poem, 
has made its beauties known to the world : 

" When distant Tweed is heard to rave. 
And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's gvave, 
Then go, but go alone the while, 
And view St. David's ruined pile." 

It takes off somewhat of the romance when one 
is informed that Sir Walter never visited the abbey 
by moonlight, but had drawn for his description 
upon his very vivid imagination. 

One characteristic of Britons, which strikes 
Americans as peculiar, is their unbounded vener- 
ation for royalty, their great respect and reverence 
for those in higher positions than themselves. 
That man would be very unfair who would dispute 
their claim to intelligence, good sense, and good 
abilities. They have them all. In many things 
great prudence and judgment, harmoniously blend- 
ed with self-respect, control them. They are so 
intelligent, it is surprising that they can let their 
reverence for persons, not one whit better than 
themselves, and perhaps not half so intelligent or 
interesting, cloud and warp their own self-respect 
and good judgment. Witness the changing of a 
name because Queen Victoria walked through a 
certain gate. The account refers to Melrose abbey: 


"This entrance to the church was in ancient 
times called the Valley gate. Since our beloved 
queen, escorted by the noble proprietor of the 
abbey, His Grace the Duke of Buccleuch, came in 
by this entrance, the flowered bordered walk, lead- 
ing north from the cloisters, has been called the 
Queen's walk." Because the queen was driven 
over a main road to reach Arthur's Seat at Edin- 
burgh, the road is called the Queen's drive. A 
merchant would rather be defrauded of a bill from 
a nobleman, than to sell and get his pay from a 
common man. If a tradesman sells an article to 
her majesty, the fact is blazoned forth on the 
sign over his place of business. If a harness- 
maker should furnish a harness for one of the 
horses of the queen, on to his sign would go, 
" Harness- Maker to Her Majesty the Queen." If 
a clothier should dispose of a necktie to the Prince 
of Wales, on his sign would be "choker" or neck- 
tie maker to His Royal Highness the Prince of 
Wales. If a shoe-dealer should sell a pair of 
boots to the Duke of Edinburgh, the world would 
know it, for his sign would proclaim him as boot- 
maker to His Grace the Duke of Edinburgh. If 
a gentleman of title stops at a certain hotel, the 
fact will sometimes be painted in glowing letters 
on the exterior walls of the house, as I saw it in 
Glasgow, and all the lackeys of the hotel will pro- 
claim it for years to come. It is related of the 
royal profligate George IV, who was a great 


spendthrift, that being- short of money, he pro- 
cured a loan of a pawnbroker by pawning various 
articles. No sooner had he departed than the 
cunning broker, following the general custom, 
put upon his sign, " Pawnbroker to His Royal 
Highness George the IV." This was so mortify- 
ing to the royal spendthrift that he paid a good 
sum to have the obnoxious sign removed. 

One of the greatest admirers of royalty and 
the nobility that ever lived was Sir Walter Scott. 
Being present at an entertainment, George the 
IV set down a tumbler from which he drank, when 
Scott seized it and exclaimed that it was a sacred 
relic, and should always be kept as a precious 
memento of the prince. Fortunately the goblet 
was afterwards broken. Perhaps if Scott had not 
possessed this great regard for birth and rank, he 
would never have written some of his charming 
works, and this fact may compensate for his weak- 
ness. The queen also mentions in her " Life in 
the Highlands" (p. 117), that at Ballachulish she 
was pressed to drink, and did drink, from a goblet 
from which Prince Charlie had drank nearly one 
hundred and fifty years before. Royalty and the 
nobility are safe so long as this spirit of servile 
reverence is instilled into the hearts of the people. 

From Melrose, my journey was continued to St. 
Boswell's station and Dryburgh abbey. The latter 
was founded about 1150, and is now in ruins. 
The Tweed flows circuitously about this most 


lovely spot. Here is the tomb of Sir Walter Scott, 
who was buried September 26, 1832, and rests by 
the side of his maternal ancestors, the Hallibur- 
tons. Here Lockhart, his son-in-law, was buried 
in 1854. 

Dryburgh abbey is in the immediate vicinity of 
the early home of the great and wide-spread fam- 
ily of Maxwell. The name was originally Maccus- 
well, so called from territory of that name on the 
Tweed, near Kelso. The Maxwells have the same 
common ancestors as the Maxtones, who derive 
their name from territory of that name near Dry- 
burgh abbey. One of this family enlarged his 
litany by repeating daily, — 

" From the greed of the Campbells, 
From the pride of the Grahams, 
From the ire of the Drummonds, 
And the wind of the Murrays, 
Good Lord, deliver its " 

— which shows his opinion of his powerful neigh- 

In the county of Roxburgh was the early 
home of the clan Chisholm, which owned lands 
in that county and in the County Berwick, between 
the years 1241 and 1286. The clan of this name 
in the county of Inverness, and others of the 
name in Scotland, are offshoots of this ancient 
family on the border. 

Journeying southward and reaching Hassen- 
dean, I was in the locality of the old border clan 


of Turnbull whose possessions were in this coun- 
ty of Roxburgh, and the chief of which hved at 
Bedrule castle, a short distance away. 

In a belt of country in the southern part of 
Scotland, near the border of England, and now 
embraced in the counties of Dumfries and Rox- 
burgh, once dwelt some of the most renowned of 
the Scottish Lowland clans, some already men- 
tioned, but among whom were the clans Johnston, 
Elliot, Douglass, Maxwell, Chisholm, and Arm- 
strong, which recalls the lines in the "Lay of the 
Last Minstrel," — 

" Ye need not go to Liddesdale, 
For when they see the blazing vale, 
Elliots and Armstrongs never fail." 

The clan Armstrong was one of the most noted, 
most numerous, and most powerful of the Low- 
land clans. The section of country the Arm- 
strongs occupied, being near the English border, 
was called the "Debatable Land." Though in 
Scotland, it was subject to the claims of England, 
and was often overrun by the armies of each king- 
dom, and sometimes stripped and despoiled by 
both. By the very necessities of their condition, 
and the troubled circumstances in which they were 
placed by the lawlessness of the age, they were 
forced to resort to expedients not justifiable in 
a more enlightened era. Like the neighboring 
clans, they followed 


" The simple plan, 
That they should take, who had the power. 
And they should keep, who can." 

It Is interesting to note the origin and antiquity 
of the name Armstrong. It was, without doubt, 
conferred upon some individual of great physical 
strength, or to keep in perpetual remembrance 
some act of devotion and bravery. This view of 
the subject is sustained by the tradition that a 
Scottish king, having his horse killed under him 
in battle, was immediately remounted by Fair- 
bairn, his armor-bearer, who took the king by the 
thigh, and set him on his saddle. For this timely 
assistance the king rewarded him with lands upon 
the border, and gave him the appellation of Arm- 
strong, and assigned him, for crest, an armed hand 
and arm; in the left hand a leg and foot in armor, 
couped at the thigh, all proper. This crest is 
borne at the present day in the arms of some 
branches of the family. 

The name is an ancient one, and is found 
spelled in forty-four different ways. It was born 
in the county of Cumberland, England, in 1235, 
or six hundred and fifty years ago; at Berwick- 
on-Tweed in 1335. Letters of safe-conduct were 
granted to William Armstrong in 1362 and 1363. 

It is not till 1376 that any of the name can be 
identified as belonging to Liddesdale, in the "De- 
batable Country," but they may have been there 
many years before. 


Though members of the family were found at 
the places before mentioned, yet they were only a 
few miles distant from the points inhabited by the 
great mass of the Armstrongs, and it is not un- 
reasonable to suppose that they were members of 
the same great family. 

Soon after 1376 Alexander and David Arm- 
strong come in view. Robert Armstrong, and 
Margaret Temple, his wife, were in possession of 
a portion of a manor in Thorpe, England, in 1377. 
Mangerton was an important seat of the Arm- 
strongs, and the residence of Thomas Armstrong, 
the chief of one of its branches, and brother of 
Johnnie Armstrong, of Gilnockie. The original 
deed to the family having been lost or destroyed, 
the town and lands were regranted by Francis, 
Earl of Bothwell, to Lancelot Armstrong, on the 
ninth of October, 1586, and remained in the pos- 
session of his descendants till about 1730. 

Another important seat of the family was at the 
"Hollows," in Cannobie, and on the bank of, or 
near, the river Esk. Here dwelt Johnnie Arm- 
strong, sometimes called " Gilnockie/' a celebrated 
border chieftain, who caused both English and 
Scotch considerable trouble. He was treacher- 
ously taken prisoner, with many of his retainers, 
in 1530, by King James V of Scotland, and he 
and thirty-five of his men were hanged at Carlen- 
rig. His name is still a familiar one upon the 
border, and in the border poetry. 


After visiting Abbotsford, Melrose, and the 
tomb of Sir Walter Scott at Dryburgh abbey, I 
took the train at St. Boswell's station for New 
Castleton. Before this town was reached the 
sun was sinking behind the western hills, and 
flooding their loftiest summits with his glorious 
light. In the south-west, black, surging clouds 
of billowy darkness came rolling up the sky, ren- 
dered more dark and vivid by the brightness of 
the rays of the setting sun. The old cemetery of 
Casdeton, a bleak and lonely spot on the hillside, 
where repose many of the Armstrongs, was plainly 
in view. 

Night came on apace. As blackness settled 
down over slumbering mountains, hills, and vales, 
I reached the "Debatable Country;" was in the 
old home of the Elliots, the Johnstons, the Scotts, 
the Armstrongs, and other border families whose 
conflicts have made these localities historic, and 
the clashing of whose swords and spears, echoing 
through the advancing years, has reached this 
distant age and distant climes. 

The old cemetery at Casdeton was inspected. 
There were stones erected to the Rev. Mr. Rob- 
ert Armstrong, who died April i6, 1732, aged 72, 
being born in 1660. He was the father of Dr. 
John Armstrong, a somewhat noted physician and 
poet of London, whose writings can be found in 
the Linen Hall library in Belfast, Ireland. There 
were stones to the Rev. William Armstrong, and 



to Robert Armstrong, shepherd, thus denoting 
his avocation, which is common in the old burial- 

One mile south of New Castleton are the four 
spanning arches of the railroad bridge which cross 
the bonnie stream known as the Liddel river. 
Near this, and on the south-west bank of the 
stream, can be seen the ruins of Mangerton castle, 
an ancient Armstrong stronghold. This is twenty 
miles north-east of Carlisle, England. 

A short distance from the Ettleton cemetery, 
near the road, but in a field, is the old "Millholm 

cross," erected in 
memory of some 
Armstrong as early 
as 1350. It is of 
light sandstone, 
bronzed and seam- 
ed by time. Carved 
upon it are the let- 
ters I. H. S. and 
M. A. A. A., while 
below is a sword 

Millholm Cross. ^\^ ^\^^ poin^ ^q ^^^ 

earth. The cross has undergone some changes 
at a late period, but it is an exceedingly interest- 
ing relic of the past. 

The Ettleton cemetery lies on the sloping side 
and near the top of a great swelling hill. The 
country is in full view for miles around, and the 


hio-h hills were dark with the brown heather in 
the clear light of that spring day. 

In the centre of the yard, upon a tall marble 
shaft, is this inscription : 

"In this spot, near which rest the ashes of his 
forefathers, is interred William Armstrong, of 
Sorbytrees, who, to the great grief of the neigh- 
borhood, was shot without challenge or warning 
by the Rev. Joseph Smith, incumbent of Walton, 
Cumberland, on the night of Wednesday, the six- 
teenth day of April, 1 851, in the thirty-eighth 
year of his age." 

The minister was slightly deranged, and died 
soon after his acquittal. 

Here are buried Thomas Armstrong, born as 
early as 1689; also James, born 1705, and Arch- 
ibald, born 1692, besides Walter and others of 
the name. 

Leaving the cemetery I reached Kershopfoot, 
three miles away, and took tea at " Kershop 
house," in England, with William Armstrong, 
Esq., and his interesting wife, who are the hos- 
pitable proprietors. He is a laird, or large land- 
owner, well educated, and about the only repre- 
sentative of the Armstrongs in this locality. 

I arrived at Langholm in the evening, which is 
situated, with its 3,000 inhabitants, among the 
high hills or mountains, — very lovely for situation, 
— a quiet retreat from the bustle of the outside 
world. The streets are narrow, and some of them 


not particularly pleasant. I made the acquaint- 
ance of the post-master, who showed me over 
their public library, and through their museum, 
which contains many curious border relics, among 
them the long, ungainly sword of the border 
chief, "Gilnockie" Armstrong. 

I went by rail to Gilnockie station, and from 
thence to the spot where his castle or mansion 
stood, which was pointed out on the east bank of 
the Esk. Three hundred and fifty-six years 
"have joined the years beyond the flood" since 
the grounds were trod by "Gilnockie" Armstrong, 
and which the border chief shall see "never 
again." The site is plainly visible at the right of 
the highway, on a bold, high precipice impending 
over the river. There is the mound with its 
rough and uneven surface, with the deep depres- 
sions which mark the basement, and the ditches 
about three sides of his fort. The latter were 
filled with water to prevent the entrance of his 
foes, while from the rear of the fort, if hard 
pressed, he could escape down the steep embank- 
ment to the river. The spot is green with ferns, 
and carpeted with clinging mosses. The tall 
trees, in which the birds were singing merrily, 
furnished abundant shade, while the flowing, mur- 
muring waters of the river Esk made sweetest 

In plain view, but on the opposite side of the 
river, in an open field, is the Hollows tower. 



Its walls of stone are solid and substantial, and of 
considerable thickness. It was erected previous 
to J 525, and stone 

steps lead 

to its 

Johnnie Armstrong, 
the redoubtable 
chief of the Scottish 
border, gathered 
wild and adventur- 
ous spirits about 
him, living in sump- 
tuous state, and 
ready at all times hollows Tower. 

for a raid into England, or against a hostile clan, 
to rescue friends or to punish enemies. To show 
"the irony of fate," the castle is no longer used 
for human habitation, but on the cold, wet 
ground, by actual count, were forty steel traps, 
and within ten feet was a pen in which several 
dogs were confined. 

This clan had many places of strength in these 
parts, such as Sark, Kinmont, Hollgreen, Hollis, 
Mumbyhirst, the castle of Harelaw, Irving castle 
near Langholm, Whitehaugh, Mangerton, Pud- 
dington, Hilles, and others; yet Gilnockie hall, 
or the home at the Hollows just described, was 
the strongest of all. 

It may be stated here that the clan Armstrong 
in its palmiest days, in 1528, with its adherents, 


numbered upwards of 3,000 horsemen. The dis- 
ruption of the clan was in 1530. In 1537, 300 
of them were under Enghsh protection; and 
later, 630 of them and their retainers are men- 
tioned as having been similarly situated. It has 
been supposed that the latter figure very nearly 
represented the numerical strength of the Arm- 
strongs after the breaking up of the confederation 
in 1530. 

As has been stated, Johnnie Armstrong, called 
" Gilnockie," was the greatest chief of the clan, 
and a further notice may not be inappropriate. 
He had three brothers, Thomas the Larde of 
Mangerton, Alexander, and George. " Gilnockie " 
kept twenty-four well horsed and able men about 
him continually, and though he harassed the Eng- 
lish counties as far as Newcastle, and laid them 
under tribute, yet he molested not his own coun- 

King James, having heard great complaints of 
outrages upon the border, went south with a 
large army, determined to extirpate the marau- 
ders. He encamped at the head of the river 
Ewes, at a place now called Cant, or Camp 
Knowes. To him there "Gilnockie" with forty- 
eight of his friends repaired, hoping for the king's 
clemency. They were treacherously ensnared, and 
brought before the king. He came, clad with all 
the pomp and magnificence of the first prince of 
Europe. His proffers of service and aid were 


Sternly rejected. Seeing that he was entrapped 
and that his Hfe was to be forfeited, he exclaimed 
proudly to the king (putting his language into 
modern English) : "I am but a fool to seek grace 
at your graceless hands. But had I known, sir, 
that you would have taken my life this day, 
I would have lived upon the borders in despite 
of King Harrie and you both, for I know King 
Harrie would weigh down my best horse with 
gold to know that I was condemned to die this 

So he and thirty-five of his men were carried 
to Carlenrig, and to the branches of trees were 
hanged, and buried in the church-yard. Till a 
recent period their graves could be pointed out. 

He was the Robin Hood of the border ; and 
after the grasses have for three hundred and fifty- 
six years grown above him, and waved in the 
summer breezes, his name is still held in great 
respect by the peasantry of the locality. They 
assert that the trees upon which he and his fol- 
lowers were hanged withered away, as a token of 
the injustice of the deed. 

" Where rising Teviot joins the frosty-lee, 

Stands the huge trunk of many a leafless tree ; 
No verdant woodbine wreaths their age adorn ; 
Bare are the boughs, the gnarled roots uptorn ; 
Here shone no sunbeam, fell no summer dew. 
Nor ever grass beneath the branches grew, 
Since that bold chief who Henry's power defied. 
True to his country, as a traitor died. 
Yon mouldering cairns, by ancient hunters ])laced 
Where blends the meadow with the marshy waste, 



Mark where the gallant warriors lie ; but long 
Their fame shall flourish in the Scotian song, — 
The Scotian song, whose deep impulsive tones 
Each thrilling fibre, true to passion, owns. 
When, soft as gales o'er summer seas that blow. 
The plaintive music warbles love-lorn woe. 
Or, wild and loud, the fierce exulting strain 
Swells its bold notes, triumphant o'er the slain." 

After leaving the Hollows tower of Gllnockie 
Armstrong, the church-yard at Cannobie was in- 
spected, where many of this clan are buried, and 
there the most ancient memorial stones were 
found, with the following inscriptions : 

Here lies Francis Armstrong in Fairlowes, who 
died Oct. y'' 9*, 1735, aged sixty-three years, being 
born in 1672. 

Here lies Francis Armstrong who died in the water 
on the Lord's day, November i, 1696, as he went 
from Kirk after sermon ; aged twenty years. 

There were also buried Thomas, George, Will- 
|> if »;jijj .rrax I iam, and Robert Armstrong, with 
L^^i^fe^M many others 01 their race. ihe 
I arms were carved on some of the 
stones. The crest — a hand with a 
dagger. The following describes 
the early arms of some of the clan 
armstr^g Arms. Armstrong, which, with variations, 
were borne by various branches of the family: 

Anns. An arm ppr. habited gu. issuing out from 
the side of the escutcheon, and holding the lower part 
of a broken tree eradicated, vert, the top leading to 
the dexter angle. 



The scenery in and around Cannobie is of rare 
beauty. The roads, the tall trees, the jubilant 
waters of the river Esk, the shadowing moun- 
tains, and the grassy, rich vales, together with 
its historic associations and the sweetness of its 


itojiiffliilltoJiai ^ 



name, render it of peculiar interest to the anti- 
quarian tourist. Scott has made it famous by the 
line in "Marmion," under title of " Lochinvar," — 

"And there was racing and chasing on Cannobie lee." 

At Stubholm, near Langholm, was born the 
great wit of the clan, Archie Armstrong. Having 
stolen a sheep, he was so closely followed by the 
enraged shepherd that he had only time to reach 
his home, and deposit the carcass of the sheep in 
the cradle, when the shepherd entered and accused 


him of the theft ; but Archie assumed an air of 
innocence, and, in the character of nurse, dehber- 
ately entailed upon himself the curse contained in 
these lines, — 

" If e'er I did sae fause a feat 
As thin my niebour's faulds, 
May I be doom'd tlie flesh to eat 
This vera cradle haulds." 

He subsequently became jester to His Majesty 
Charles I, but was dismissed in disgrace for the 
poignancy of his wit and keen satire, his subjects 
being members of the nobility. 

Though this clan was in great strength upon 
the border several centuries ago, yet numerous 
branches or colonies, springing from the parent 
stock, located at an early date in the northern 
counties of England. One settled at Corby, Lin- 
colnshire, another at Thorpe, Nottinghamshire, 
and another in Yorkshire. The race is not numer- 
ous in the locality in which it originated, yet many 
members of it are found in England, great num- 
bers in Ireland, and not a few in the United States 
and the British Provinces. It is safe to assert 
that every person of the name of Armstrong who 
rightfully bears that name, is descended from the 
powerful clan on the border in the "Debatable 

Soon after the death of Queen Elizabeth, in 
1603, William Armstrong, of the Mangerton 
branch, settled in the county of Fermanaugh, 
Ireland. Afterward, his nephew, Andrew Arm- 


Strong, joined him, and they were the founders 
of a numerous and prominent race. The Arm- 
strongs of Ballycumber, County Clare, are from the 
Mangerton family. The Armstrongs of Gallen, 
Kings county, as well as those of Garry castle 
and of Castle Iver, Kings county, are descended 
from "Gilnockie" Armstrong. Major A. Arm- 
strong, at whose pleasant home, " Gilnockie," 
Westcombe Park, Blackheath, S. E. London, re- 
side his mother and sisters, is of the "Gilnockie" 
branch of the family. 

Among the many estimable members of the 
race in Ireland must not be omitted Thomas Arm- 
strong, J. P., of Portadown, county of Armagh, 
a solid business man, whose grandfather used 
annually to make a pilgrimage to the old home of 
his ancestors upon the Scottish border. 

Then there is William E. Armstrong, Esq., 
solicitor, whose fluent and nimble tongue has won 
many cases in court, as well as entertained his 
guests, with the aid of his agreeable family, at his 
attractive home at No. 12 Clifton street, off An- 
trim Road, Belfast. Ireland. 

Among other descendants of the early emigrants 
to Ireland, from the border, are the Armstrongs 
of county Sligo and town of Sligo, on the west 
coast of Ireland, who have been residents there 
since 1650, at least. This family is represented 
by the Rev. James Armstrong, an Episcopal cler- 
gyman of pleasing address and winning manners. 


From his cheerful manse at Castle Rock, county of 
Londonderry, a romantic and enchanting place, 
one can look forth upon the heaving waters of the 
broad Atlantic, and in the whirlwind of the storm 
and tempest can hear its wildest music, as the 
angry waves lash themselves against the precipi- 
tous cliffs. I have sketched, in a general way, the 
history of the clan to its disruption in 1530, of its 
collateral branches which settled in Ireland and 
in England, and mentioned a few of its living 
members in the three king-doms whom I visited. 
Among the many prominent men of the name on 
this side of the blue sea may be mentioned 
George W. Armstrong, Esq., of Brookline, Mass., 
and President Armstrong, of the Hampton Insti- 
tute, Va. 

The night was spent at the Commercial hotel, 
John Scott, proprietor. The following morning 
he carried me with "his machine" over a road 
hard and smooth to the " Hermitage," a renowned 
and ruined castle six miles away. The morning 
was bright and beautiful, the air was invigorating, 
and our route lay through woods where were 
golden pheasants and other birds, and protected 
game of the duke. Much of the way was bright 
with flowers, and the multitude of Scotch prim- 
roses, laden with dew, which glistened in the morn- 
ing brightness, added joy to the way. On the route 
we visited an old cemetery, where were the familiar 
names of Jackson, Elliot, Waugh, Scott, etc. 


Before reaching- the " Hermitao;e " we halted at 
the house of the gamekeeper at Newlands, and 
procured the key. The castle, built in 1244, stands 
on a sHght elevation, near the highway. It is in 
fair preservation. The stone walls are still stand- 
ing, and also a portion of the roof of arched stone. 
It is entered by a thick, heavy wooden door. I 
unlocked the heavy door, which swung upon its 
hinges and admitted me to an open space of 
ground, wet and forbidding. A hole eighteen 
inches square is the entrance to a dungeon twelve 
feet deep, in which it is said Sir Alexander Ram- 
say was starved to death by order of Sir William 
Douglass, owner of the castle, who had taken him 
prisoner. The entire surface floor of the castle is 
covered with debris, and is unpleasant and gloomy. 
The surrounding grounds show plainly the site of 
the ancient deep trenches, which were filled with 
water, and rendered the approach of an enemy 
very difficult. 

The "Hermitage" once belonged to the Lords* 
Soulis. In 1320 William de Soulis conspired 
against King Robert Bruce, and this revolt ruined 
his family. He was cruel and vindictive, harassed 
his neighbors, and treated his vassals with great 
cruelty. Bruce had been much annoyed by com- 
plaints of de Soulis, and once, when his vassals 
came to him for a redress of grievances, exclaimed, 
"Boil him, if you please, but let me hear no more 
of him." This order is said to have been literally 


executed, at a declivity on Hermitage Water, not 
far away, at a place called the Nine-Stane-Rig. 
This place was pointed out to me, and derives its 
name from a druidical circle of stones, only five of 
which are now standing. This castle was later 
the abode of the Douglasses, Lords of Liddesdale. 

Douglass is the name of a very ancient, very 
powerful, and numerous family in Scotland, once 
the rival of royalty. The first of the name in his- 
tory is William of Dufglas, between 1175 and 
1 199. The family seat was at Douglass, on the 
river of that name, in the south-westerly section of 
the county of Lanark. There lived the " Good 
Sir James Douglass," the companion of King 
Robert Bruce, and who perished fighting the 
Moors in Spain, as he was on the mission of bear- 
ing the heart of Bruce to the holy sepulchre at 
Jerusalem. Taking from his neck the silver cas- 
ket containing the embalmed heart of Bruce, he 
threw it into the ranks of the enemy and said, 
" Now pass thou onward before us, gallant heart, 
as thou wert wont: Douglass will follow thee, or 
die." He and the most of his followers perished 
in the charge, but his body was recovered, with 
the casket. Both were returned to Scotland, when 
the heart of Bruce was buried at Melrose abbey. 

His son, Sir William Douglass, was the owner 
and occupant of Hermitage castle, and was styled 
the Knight of Liddesdale. He it was who from 
envy, because Sir Alexander Ramsay had been 


more successful than himself in the capture of 
Roxburgh castle from the English, March 20, 
1342, and in consequence had supplanted him as 
sheriff of Teviotdale, went with an armed force, on 
the 20th of June, 1342, seized Ramsay at a church 
in Hawick where he was holding court, took 
him to Hermitage castle, and starved him to death 
in the dungeon previously described, protract- 
ing his wretched existence for seventeen days. 
Though pardoned by his king, he was, in August, 
1353, killed, while hunting in Ettrick forest, by 
his cousin. Sir William Douglass, in revenge for 
the death of Ramsay. 

At Kershopfoot I saw a beautiful herd of horn- 
less black cattle, which were of good size, a third 
laro-er than the small-horned black cattle of the 
county of Kerry, Ireland. Another variety are 
the polled cattle, of lightish brown color. In the 
Highlands are the Highland cattle, very hand- 
some, with hair so long and thick that they go 
shelterless in the winter without detriment. 

Taking a pedestrian tour of some miles through 
this section, I was surprised at the absence of 
farm-houses or human habitations. My eyes 
swept great tracts of country with only here and 
there a tenement. Some of the farm-houses 
seemed in fair condition, but the people live in 
villages, and the small houses of the tenants clus- 
ter near each other on the land of the Laird whose 
domains they till. 


When at Cannobie, the brightness of an early 
morning gave place to clouds, and heavily the 
rain fell as with valise and umbrella I walked over 
a strange road in a strange land to reach the sta- 
tion. The train not being due for some time, 
and as there was no hotel there, and having had 
no refreshments, I went to spy out the wealth or 
" nakedness of the land," and came to a low, 
thatch-roofed cottage, and was ushered in. The 
flagstone floor was of scrupulous neatness, and 
everything in that humble abode was tidy and 
well kept. Provisions and eatables were not in 
closets or refrigerators, but in large chests. I 
soon regaled myself on Scotch scones and milk, 
as nice as one would find in the best restaurant. 

The name of the family was Little, and they 
were representatives of the numerous clan of that 
name who occupied anciently the lower part of 
Upper Eskdale and a portion of Ewesdale in or 
near this immediate locality. 

I was soon across the border at Longtown, in 
England, near the head of Solway Firth. This 
was my farthest point south, and I now bade 
adieu to the Debatable Country, and started for 
the far north, touching the eastern coast of Scot- 
land, passing through the Highlands to the west 
coast at Oban, and then went by steamer to the 
wind-swept Hebrides and the island of Lewis. 



" From the dim shieling on the misty island 
Mountains divide me, and a world of seas ; 
Yet still my heart is true, my heart is Highland, 
And I in dreams behold the Hebrides." 

SHORT journey of three miles brought me 
to Gretna Junction, that Gretna so famous 
in the long ago for its runaway marriages. There 
were no conveyances, and so I started for the 
station in the falling rain. I was never a success- 
ful pedestrian, for it was always against my prin- 
ciples to exercise myself in that manner when 
it could be avoided by riding or driving. After 
proceeding a half mile my eyes were gladdened 
by an approaching team, which proved to be a 
young man with a load of bread, who was going 
to Gretna, Yankee like, only a minute passed 
before a trade was made by which he took me 
along as part of his cargo. His bread-cart was 
not like one in New England, a nice four-wheeled 
carriage with an elegant covered top, but it was 
a heavy, lumbering, two-wheeled cart, after the 
approved British fashion. The bread filled the 
body of the cart, and over it was thrown heavy 
sail-cloth for covering. It was so loaded that the 


driver's weight upon the front corner maintained 
the proper balance upon the axle-tree, so that 
his horse could travel comfortably. If I joined 
him, the additional weight would press too heavily 
upon the horse. So we adjusted matters by my 
taking his place and acting as driver, and he 
locating himself upon the rear corner of the cart, 
to maintain a proper equilibrium of the vehicle; 
and in this original and laughable manner we 
reached Gretna. 

The cheerful rumble of the train was soon 
heard, and Edinburgh was my objective point. 
We passed through an excellent agricultural dis- 
trict. The rain fell in torrents. The air was 
chilly, and all along the route, in open fields and 
on the sloping hillsides, great numbers of sheep, 
with their young and tender lambs, were seen, 
unprotected from the pelting storm, 

Lockerby was reached, and we were in what 
was once the county of the brave and powerful 
border family of Johnston or Johnstone. The 
first whom history records as possessing a bar- 
onetcy was Sir John de Johnstone, who swore 
fealty to Edward I of England in 1296. The 
home of the Johnstones was at Westerhall in this 
county of Dumfries. We were in the district of 
Annandale, where in the upper portions the John- 
stons from time immemorial have possessed most 
extensive estates. Still going north, a few miles 
from Lockerby the town or parish of Johnston is 


reached. In the castle of Lockwood, in this place, 
lived for generations the head or chief's family of 
one of the branches of this numerous clan. The 
castle was built in the 14th century, and was a 
place of great strength, but was burned by the 
Maxwells in 1593. The Johnstons were numer- 
ous, and participated in all the exciting scenes of 
border and clannish warfare. 

After a four-hours ride from Gretna Junction, 
through a section rich in history and beautiful in 
scenery, and passing through Moffatt, Symington, 
and other interesting towns, we entered the finely 
situated city of Peebles, on the banks of the 
Tweed, and secluded among the Scottish hills. 
It is a place of quiet beauty, and the tourist can 
take many pleasant rambles in its vicinity. In 
the days of warfare between England and Scot- 
land there was a line of fortresses in the valley 
of the Tweed, above and below Peebles, which 
existed as a means of defence against the Eng- 
lish marauders. One of the most impregnable, 
and which is in excellent preservation, is Neid- 
path castle. 

" The noble Nid-Path Peebles overlooks. 
With its fair bridge, and Tweed's meandering brooks. 
Upon a rock it proud and stately stands, 
And to the fields above gives forth commands." 

As stated in the poem, it stands on a projecting 
rock on the north bank of the river, and is a mile 
west of the town. The Tweed runs rapidly through 


a narrow defile, while on the opposite side from the 
castle the hills rise to a oreat heio^ht, covered 
heavily with wood. Through this narrow glen 
the wind sweeps with tremendous force. This 
was the home of the head of one branch of the 
Douglasses. A family now lives in the castle, 
and an attendant answers the calls of visitors, and 
shows them all parts of the historic place. The 
walls are of immense thickness. From the giddy 
height of the summit is a view of romantic inter- 
est. Far beneath are the rushing waters of the 
Tweed. Around are the high, wooded hills, and 
in another direction are the city of Peebles and 
the country beyond. 

At Peebles I had the pleasure of making the 
acquaintance of Mr. Henry Armour, of Edinburgh, 
an accomplished gentleman previously mentioned. 
He was perfectly familiar with this locality, and 
very kindly accompanied me to Roslin chapel and 
Hawthornden. A narrow defile of great beauty 
connects these places. The ruins of Roslin castle 
are upon a great ledge of rock overhanging the 
beautiful valley of the river Esk. It is reached 
by a high bridge. 

This was for a long period the home of the Sin- 
clair or St. Clair family. Sinclair, a surname of 
Norman origin, was first borne in Great Britain 
by Walderne, Count de Santo Claro, who came 
over with William the Conqueror. His son, Will- 
iam de Sancto Claro, settled in Scotland in the 


reign of David I, between 1124 and 1153, and 
from him received the grant of the barony of Ros- 
lin, Mid Lothian. On account of his fair and cor- 
rect manner of hfe he was called the seemly St. 

All portions of the castle were visible, some 
parts being in a ruined condition, and others in 
fair preservation. From some dark apartments, 
through narrow apertures in the wall, one could 
look out upon the charming scenery in the valley 
beneath. The garrulous old guide pointed out 
the kitchen of the castle. The menu, and the 
accommodations for preparing it, could not com- 
pare with those of modern establishments. 

Roslin chapel, situated upon a higher elevation, 
is only a short distance from the castle ; the 
admission fee is one shilling. It was founded by 
William St. Clair, 3d Earl of Orkney, and Lord 
Roslin, in 1446. It is one of the most remarkable 
specimens of Gothic architecture in Scotland. 
The carvings on roof and pillar are simply won- 
derful. The barons of Roslin, clad in armor, lie 
buried beneath the pavement of the chapel, as 
Scott has written in "The Lay of the Last Min- 
strel." It was a superstition that the chapel ap- 
peared in flames on the night before the death of 
one of its lordly owners. 

" Seemed all on fire that chapel proud, 
Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffined lie, 
Each baron for a sable shroud, 
Sheathed in his iron panoply. 

* * * * • * 


" There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold, 
Lie buried within that proud chapelle, 
Each one the holy vault doth hold, 
But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle 1 

"And each St. Clair was buried there, 

With candle, with book, and with knell. 
But the sea-caves rung and the wild winds sung. 
The dirge of lovely Rosabelle." 

Leaving these interesting scenes, we enter the 
vale of Hawthornden, and how shall its romantic 
loveliness be described ? There are the murmur- 
ing Esk, the steep, rugged cliffs, the tall trees 
with their thick foliage through which the rays of 
the sun struggle for admittance. All is lovely 
for several miles. We reached Lasswade, where 
we were hospitably entertained at the home of an 
intimate friend of my companion's. Lasswade 
derives its name from an old custom before the 
erection of bridges for the lasses to wade across 
the river bearing passengers on their backs. 
There Walter Scott passed some happy years. 
On the way to Edinburgh v/e saw the ruined cas- 
tle of Craigmillar, a favorite residence of Queen 

A few miles north-east of Edinburgh is the early 
home of the family of Pinkerton. The lands of 
Pinkerton, in the parish of Crail, and in the coun- 
ly of Fife, gave the name to the family. Twenty- 
nine miles south-east of Edinburgh^ in the county 
of Haddington, is the village of Pinkerton, near 
Dunbar. From these ancient family seats the 


Pinkertons have branched out, and are widely 

Stark or Starke is a Scottish surname, mean- 
ing strong, and was first borne by a person by 
name of Muirhead, for his having rescued King 
James IV from a bull in the forest of Cumbernauld. 
For his strength he was called Stark. (Nisbit's 
Heraldry, vol. i, p. 340.) This was between the 
years 1488 and 15 13. In the county of Fife were 
the Starks of Kingdale and the Starks of Teasses. 
A few miles west, in the county of Kinross, were 
the Starks of Bridgeland. The name is still a 
familiar one in Scotland. 

These names have been honorably borne in 
New Hampshire by representatives of this same 
Scotch race, who first emigrated from Scotland to 
the north of Ireland, and then to New Hampshire. 
The Pinkertons have been honored founders and 
sustainers of public institutions of learning, and 
Gen. John Stark was a distinguished leader in the 
Revolutionary war, and won victory at the battle 
of Bennington. 

Making a brief halt in Edinburgh, I left the city 
for Stirling, which was reached in two hours, and 
was courteously received by J. Grant McLean, 
Esq., to whom I bore a letter of introduction. 
He showed me over the most celebrated places 
in the city. 

Stirling castle is renowned in Scottish history. 
It stands on the brow of a precipitous rock, on a 



high elevation, and rivals the lordly Castle of Edin- 
burgh. It has existed for at least eight hundred 
years, has been the scene of warlike exploits, and 
some of the most important events in Scottish 

^istory have 

taken place 
within its 
walls, or in its 
immediate vi- 
cinity. From 
the lofty bat- 
tlements the 
view is beautiful beyond expression. From a cer- 
tain corner in the wall, far beneath the Vale of 
Monteith is spread out before one's vision, level 
as a floor, rich as a garden, while in the distance 
the peaks of Ben Lomond, Ben Venue, and Ben 
Ledi meet the embracing sky, and bound the 
view. In the north are the Orchill hills, while 
through the fertile plain is the sinuous path 
of the river Forth, which, glistening in the sun- 
light, looks like a belt of molten silver. The same 
glance of the eye will embrace the ruins of Cam- 
buskenneth abbey on the plain, while far above 
is the Abbey Craig, surmounted by the elegant 
monument to Sir William Wallace, and to the 
westward the pleasant homes at the Bridge of 
Allan. The Campsie hills are lying in a south- 
westerly direction. From another portion of the 
wall can be seen the flao;staft' on the battlefield of 


Bannockbiirn. Looking down from the walls to 
the plain beneath, the King's garden unfolds itself, 
with its turf embankment, fresh and beautifully 
green, with streets of houses of the laborers upon 
the land. It .was in the latter part of a clear, 
bright day when I was there, and the sun flooded 
the land with light, and revealed in its surpassing 
beauty the Vale of Monteith wath its carpet of 
green, showed the graceful windings of the Forth, 
and tinged the distant mountain-peaks with glory. 
The castle is of great interest. The carvings 
upon the exterior are horrible, and in a ruinous 
condition. The once aristocratic streets which 
lead to it are narrow and unpleasant. Edifices 
once the abode of the nobility, of wealth and 
culture, are now the homes of squalor, poverty, 
and wretchedness ; and windows from which, cen- 
turies ago, looked forth the bright eyes of the wit- 
tiest and fairest of Scotland's dames and belles, 
look forth to-day faces besotted by drink and 
degraded by crime. 

One evening I took a tram-car and went to the 
vicinity of the Wallace monument. The old Bridge 
of Stirling was in view. Near it once stood an 
older bridge, over which, in less peaceful days, the 
English troops charged, to dislodge the Scotch 
forces under William Wallace. The bridge was 
narrow, and only a few soldiers could cross it at a 
time. The eye of the Scotch chieftain was upon 
them. He waited till the enemy were half across, 


when he and his eager men came plunging out of 
a .narrow defile, over the spot where I was stand- 
ing, across the open field at my right, now turned 
over by the plow, engaged the enemy, and drove 
them from the field with fearful loss. That occur- 
red September 13, 1297. I passed over the bat- 
tlefield, much of which is under cultivation, and 
walked back to Stirling in the evening. Halting 
upon the bridge, I glanced across the historic 
ground. Gazing up at the clear skies, the cold 
and pitiless stars shone brightly, twinkling the 
same as they did 587 years before, when the 
Scotch and English hosts met in deadly conflict. 
Looking beneath me, the dark, rolling waters of 
the Forth reflected the brightness of the heavenly 
torches as in the olden time. But otherwise, how 
changed the scene ! No marshalling of Scottish 
clans, no hosts of English invaders, no deadly on- 
set and horrible battle. All was peaceful. The 
lights from happy homes at the Bridge of Allan 
sent out their cheering gleams. Looking towards 
Stirling, there stood the mighty castle, with its 
high and frowning battlements, as it had stood for 
centuries; while thousands of blazing lights from 
houses and streets sent their brightness over the 
plain below, making a scene beautiful indeed ! 

Three miles from Stirling is the battle-field of 
Bannockburn. I took the train at 8 a. m., and on 
arriving at the station found myself nearly as far 
from the battle-field as at Stirling. The village of 


Bannockburn is small, untidy, and unpleasant, 
with its straggling houses. There I made some 
inquiries of one in relation to the battle, which 
was fought June 24, 13 14. Then, with becoming 
gravity, I asked him if he was in the battle ! This 
was too much for even the gravity of a Scotch- 
man. He frankly admitted that he was not, but 
would have been in it had he been around at the 

The battle-ground was reached. There is little 
in the place itself of particular interest. On a 
slight eminence, called Brock's brae, is the " Bore 
stone" where King Robert Bruce, on that battle- 
day, unfurled his standard. The stone is now 
covered by an iron grating, to protect it from 
relic-hunters. Near it is erected a flag-staff, which 
can be seen for many miles. While standing at 
the "Bore stone" it was hard to realize that one 
of the most important battles in Scottish history 
had there taken place. Everything was quiet, 
serene, and peaceful. The rain had been succeed- 
ed by sunshine, the birds were joyful, and the 
cattle and sheep were quietly feeding on ground 
where the contending armies had met. 

At that period Bruce was struggling to relieve 
his country from English thraldom. Stirling casde 
was in the hands of the English, under Sir Philip 
Mowbray, and being besieged by Edward Bruce, 
had proposed a truce, and agreed to surrender 
unless relieved by a certain day. The time was 


about to expire, and King Edward hastened for- 
ward with a powerful army of 100,000 men for his 
reHef. To prevent this, Bruce collected 40,000 
men, and made a stand at this spot. The right 
wing- was commanded by Edward Bruce, the left 
wing by Douglass and Stuart, and the centre by 
Thomas Randolph, Earl of Mowbray; while Bruce 
himself was stationed in the rear with his reserve. 
In front of the reserve was the " Bore stone," from 
which was displayed the royal standard. In a 
valley some distance in the rear, and hidden by a 
high hill known as Gillie's hill, was Bruce's bag- 
gage, with some 15,000 camp-followers. Bruce 
dug deep pits, filled them with upright, sharpened 
stakes, slightly covered, to protect himself from 
the English cavalry, and awaited the approach of 
the foe. 

As one stands at the "Bore stone," nearly in 
front, but in plain view, though in the distance, is 
rising ground, where the English army, a mighty 
host, were swiftly advancing with "all the pomp 
and circumstance of oflorious war." The sun 
shone brightly on their burnished armor. They 
came with waving plumes and floating banners. 
The vanguard approached. Bruce rode in front 
of his advance column, w-hen Henry de Bohun 
charged upon him in single combat, and perished 
on the field. The reputed spot is pointed out. 

On the following day, after a terrible contest, 
w'hen the English lines were wavering and the 


destiny of Scotland was trembling in the balance, 
at that supreme moment the camp followers of 
Bruce came trooping over Gillie's hill, when, the 
English seeing them, and supposing they were 
reinforcements, fled in dismay, and Scotland was 

On leaving this spot I walked through other 
pleasant places to Stirling, then to the Bridge of 
Allan. The latter is a delightful watering-place 
of 3,000 people, with a large hydropathic estab- 
lishment, and noted mineral waters. My pedes- 
trian tour was continued to Abbey Craig, on which 
is the monument to Sir William Wallace. The 
craig rises 560 feet above the level of the plain, 
and to reach the top one goes through charming 
drives and walks, lined and shaded by forest trees 
planted by Nature's bountiful hand. 

The monument, in the form of a baronial tower, 
rises to a height of 220 feet; it is on the highest 
part of the hill. At the top the wind blew like a 
hurricane. The view of the country is delightful, 
and six battle-fields can be seen. On the lands 
of Cambuskenneth abbey, in the reign of Ken- 
neth II, was fought a batde between the Picts and 
Scots, then between Sir William Wallace and the 
English, under the Earl of Surry, September 13, 
1297. Bannockburn was fought between Robert 
Bruce and King Edward II, June 24. 13 14, and 
three miles south-west the batde of Sauchie burn, 
where King James III of Scodand was defeated 


by his barons led by his own son, and was mur- 
dered in Beaton's mill, near Milltown, June ii, 
1488, and buried at Cambuskenneth abbey. In 
the north-west is Sherriff-muir, where the Duke 
of Argyle with the royal troops fought the Earl 
of Mar in November, 1715; and again, in 1745, 
when the adherents of Prince Charlie drew their 
cannon to the top of the craig, hoping to be able 
to reduce Stirling castle. 

Passing from the monument, along a shady, 
descending walk, one reaches the plain below, 
and enters a narrow lane which leads from the 
highway to Cambuskenneth abbey. It was found- 
ed in 1 147, and is now in ruins, with the excep- 
tion of a tower seventy feet in height which 
remains. The abbey was very extensive, but the 
foundation stones became completely covered till 
a portion was unearthed and exposed to view 
a few years since. The verdant earth had cov- 
ered, from a foot to a foot and a half, the walls 
and flat stone pavements. In 1865 Queen Victoria 
erected a monument to her ancestors, — James III, 
who died June 11, 1488, and his queen, Margaret 
of Denmark. There the early parliaments of 
Scotland were convened. 

Passing through the litde village of humble 
cottages, I reached the bank of the Forth, and 
was ferried across. In Stirling, by appointment, 
I met my acquaintance, Mr. McLean, who intro- 
duced me to Mr. Cook, editor and antiquarian, at 


whose house we had a dehghtful call. In his 
library were many costly and curious works. He 
very kindly presented me with a rare work of 
merit, which I had searched for in vain in Glas- 
gow and Edinburgh. 

In the county of Fife, a few miles from Stirling, 
was the district or barony of Abercrombie, from 
which the scattered members of that family derive 
their name. It is said to be from Aber, meaning 
beyond, and crombie, a crook, alluding to the 
bend or crook of Fifeness. The parish known 
long as St. Monance was known as Abercrombz^ 
in 1 1 74; it is now called Abercrom^jv- 

On the afternoon of May 15 I left Stirling for 
Oban on the west coast in company with my 
friend, from whom I parted, at his home at Bridge 
of Allan, with a grateful appreciation of the cour- 
tesies he had shown me. My journey led me 
through some of the finest scenery of the western 
Highlands. Soon was reached the village ol 
Dunblane, a mile and a half east of which was 
fought the battle of Sherriff-muir, in 1745, be- 
tween the royal forces and those of the Pretender. 
At this battle each army did fight gloriously, each 
was victorious, and each did run away, thus jus- 
tifying the words of the ballad, — 

" Now, if ye speir wha wan the day, 
I've telled ye what I saw, Willie; 
We baith did fight, and Ijaith did beat, 
And baith did lin awa', Willie." 


It was at this battle that a Highlander lamented 
that he had lost his father and his mother, and "a 
gude buff belt wee worth them both." 

The railway turns from the river Allan nearly 
due west to the border of the river Teith, and at 
Doune we entered on the scenery of "The Lady 
of the Lake." Changing the words of Scott, — 

"Along thy banks, swift Teith, I ride. 
And in the race can mock thy tide." 

The whole section is richly historic, abounding 
with ruined castles and romantic scenery. We 
reached Callander, and Benledi, " The Hill of 
God," reared its lofty summit 2,875 ^^^^ above us. 
Loch Katrine was a few miles to the south. An 
hour or two brought us to Lix, when we entered 
the Glen-Dochart, where on the south Ben More 
rises to a height of 3,843 feet. On an island in 
Loch-Dochart is situated Dochart castle, said to 
be the earliest home of the Campbells of Glenfal- 
loch. This is in the country of the Clan Camp- 
bell. Thirty miles distant is Inverary, where re- 
sides the head of the clan, the Duke of Argyle, 
father of the Marquis of Lome, the husband of 
Princess Louise. 

It is instructive to note the rise of clanships, 
their growth and power, and sometimes their de- 
cay, dissolution, and the dispersion of their mem- 
bers. No country in the world has been so divid- 
ed into clans as Scotland, and no country has fur- 


nished so rich, varied, and wonderful a history. 
The European nations in olden times were divid- 
ed into tribes; the Scottish people were divided 
into clans. When territory was overrun and con- 
quered by a clan, it was common for its chief to 
divide a portion of the lands among members of 
his own family. They held their lands from their 
chief, and as the safety and prosperity of each in- 
dividual were merged in that of his clan, the mem- 
bers clung together with wonderful tenacity. It 
was distinguished by some common name, either 
local or patronymic. This was before the intro- 
duction of surnames, or ensigns armorial. When 
these had become numerous, the relations and 
descendants of every chieftain assumed his arms 
and bore his name. His vassals were only too 
proud to follow the example of relatives. Thus 
clanships were formed, and persons who bore the 
same name were not necessarily connected by ties 
of blood. In a few generations the artificial union 
became a natural one. The members of these 
great families followed their chief to battle because 
they were his vassals, because he was the head of 
their house, because they loved him. They serv- 
ed him with the devotion of children. 

Alexander III was born at Roxburgh castle Sep- 
tember 4, 1 241, and came to the throne of Scot- 
land July 8, 1249, when eight years of age. It 
was during his illustrious reign that the Campbells 
first made their appearance prominently in history. 


They were divided into two great families, after- 
ward distinguished by the patronymics of Mac- 
Arthur and MacCaileanmore. In 1266 Gillespie 
Campbell, head of the latter branch, became prom- 
inent, and there is reason to believe was heritable 
sheriff of Argyle, which was erected into a sheriff- 
dom by Alexander II in 1221. Not till the reign 
of Robert Bruce did the Campbells obtain a firm 
footing in Argyle. They laid the foundations of 
their future greatness and power between the 
year 1300 and the date of Bruce's death, June 7, 
1329. Many forfeited lands were granted to Sir 
Niell Campbell, of Loch Awe, by his sovereign, 
and his subsequent marriage to a sister of the 
king attached this family still more strongly to the 
Bruce dynasty. Early in the fifteenth century Sir 
Duncan Campbell, of Loch Awe, afterward the first 
Lord Campbell, was one of the wealthiest barons 
in Scotland. His grandson, Colon Campbell, the 
first Earl of Argyle, acquired by marriage the ex- 
tensive Lordship of Lome, and for a long period 
held the office of Chancellor of Scotland. He 
died in 1492, and his son Archibald Campbell suc- 
ceeded him. The Campbells, aspiring and ambi- 
tious, made rapid advancement in power and influ- 
ence during the seventeenth and eighteenth cen- 
turies. The Marquis of Argyle, called Gillespie 
Grumach, aggrandized his family greatly. He 
obtained vast territories, dispossessed and made 
vassals of other clans. His son, the ninth Earl of 


Arg}'le, consolidated this power, and about 1750 
this was more influential than any other family in 
Scotland. This influence was supported by the 
willing cooperation of many powerful families of 
the same surname. The numerical strength of the 
Campbells was very great. The force of the clan 
was four thousand men in 17 15, and five thousand 
in 1745. Their ancient home included the larger 
part of Argyle, a strip of country one hundred and 
twelve miles long and forty-two broad. As we 
passed through a part of the wild, mountainous 
home of this powerful clan, which once resounded 
with their warlike cries and echoed with their tread, 
one could not but recall the old cry, — 

" The Campbells are coming ! " 

Time has wrought magical changes there. The 
railway before reaching Tyndrum is constructed 
on the abrupt side of a ravine at a height of from 
300 to 400 feet above the lowest point in the val- 
ley. There are heavy cuttings in the sides of the 
mountains, and powerful bridges span the deep 
ravines. The steep, precipitous mountains rise to 
dizzy heights above us, while far beneath us were 
the deep valleys with the flowing river, and vil- 
lages with the low, thatch-roofed cottages of the 
humble cotters. After reaching Dalmally we pass- 
ed along the shore of Loch Awe, within sight of 
the old castle of Kilchurn, which lies beneath the 
shadows of the towering mountains which over- 


look the lake. These were in the possession of the 
Campbells, and their remote fastnesses gave rise 
to the slogan of the clan, "It's a far cry to Loch- 
ow," signifying the difficulty of overcoming or cap- 
turing them in their mountain fastnesses. 

Loch Etive soon came into view upon our right; 
and when the shadows deepened, the lights on the 
circling shores of Oban greeted us as we entered 
that town on the coast of the Atlantic. Through 
the western Highlands a silent gentleman from 
Glasgow was my travelling companion. He was 
quite reticent till we reached Oban, when his re- 
serve vanished. We registered at the same hotel, 
and parted. On the morrow I went to the far 
North, and was gone some ten days. While on 
my return journey, many miles from Oban, I was 
saluted by a gentleman, and, behold ! it was my 
former silent companion. 

Oban is romantically situated, being built on 
the margin of a semi-circular bay, and is a great 
rendezvous for tourists. Leaving the Imperial 
hotel on the morning succeeding my arrival, I 
took passage on the steamer Claymoj'e for Storn- 
oway. Isle of Lewis, a journey of thirty-six hours. 

Allusion has been made to gifted authors who 
have by their writings done so much for Scotland. 
William Black, of the present, by the fascination 
of his facile pen, has thrown and is throwing such 
a charm about the western islands that multi- 
tudes of tourists annually visit their ocean-beaten 


shores. I was now to see many islands and places 
described in " Macleod of Dare," "White Wings," 
and " Sheila : a Princess of Thule." Leaving the 
pier at Oban, in the brightness of the spring 
morning, we passed across the blue waters of 
Loch Linnhe, between the islands of Kerrera on 
the south and the green shores of Lismore on 
the north, past Lady Rock on the right, whose 
form, with its iron beacon, rose darkly from the 
water, while upon our left, on land projecting into 
the sea, were the picturesque ruins of Duart casde, 
once the home of the McLeans. Looking toward 
the retreating shores, Ben Cruachan, Ben Nevis, 
and the peaks of Glencoe, stood as lofty sentinels. 
In front were the mountains of Morven and of 
Mull, and farther on those of Ardnamurchan, 
As we passed through the sound of Mull, with 
the light resting upon the mountains of the island 
of that name, it was in vain for me to try to catch 
glimpses of the solitudes of the western coast, or 
the great range of mountains of Ulva. So real, 
so vividly has William Black delineated Castle 
Dare, in Macleod of Dare, that one almost 
expected to see its high, bold battlements, as it 
stood on the precipitous, ocean-beaten cliffs. 

We halted at Tobermory, in island of Mull. 
The Ettrick Shepherd, when he settled with his 
boatmen, gave expression to his feelings in these 
lines : 


" I have sailed round the straits and headland of Mull : 
Her vales are uncultured, unhallowed, and weedy ; 
Tier mountains are barren, her haven is dull : 

Her sons may be brave, but they are cursedly greedy." 

The remark in relation to "her sons" will be 
most cordially endorsed by all travellers as appli- 
cable to most hotel keepers and employes in 

Ruined castles, magnificent estates, and pala- 
tial modern residences line the shores of these 
islands. We rounded Ardnamurchan, the west- 
ern extremity of the mainland of Scotland, and 
then successively the islands of Muck, Eig, Rum, 
Canna, and Skye came in view. The island of 
Muck is uninhabited save by two herdsmen. The 
inhabitants once numbered one hundred and forty, 
but in 1828 they were induced to emigrate to 

The natives of the western islands love their 
homes with a passionate devotion, and almost 
compulsion is necessary to induce them to emi- 
grate even to a better country. A woman in Skye 
said she would rather starve among its rocks than 
to leave her home. Somehow, with them life is 
warmer, closer, than with many peoples, and they 
cling to each other and to their homes more tena- 
ciously. The fires upon their hearthstones burn 
more freely, and home lights shine more softly, 
more brightly, and penetrate farther. The very 
names of mountains, rocky shores, historic spots, 
enshrined in verse and music, are in their hearts. 


We know the feelings of the people of Muck as 
they left their homes and the sepulchres of their 
fathers : 

" They looked to the countless isles that lie 
From Barra to Mull, and from Jura to Skye ; 
They looked to heaven, they looked to the main. 
As on places they were not to see again." 

Eig island is eight miles in circumference, with 
a population of 250 persons. We passed near it, 
and had a fine view of Scuir-eig, a peak which 
rises in its centre 450 feet. Near the shore is a 
cave, noted as the scene of a horrible destruction 
of life some 230 years ago. The inhabitants had 
fallen under the displeasure of the Macleods of 
Skye, and they thirsted for vengeance. They re- 
paired to the island in their boats in large num- 
bers. The Eigites, fearing evil, fled en masse from 
their huts to this cave — which is nearly invisible, 
but when entered is 260 feet long, 27 feet high, 
and 20 feet broad — for protection. The enemy 
plundered and burned the abandoned huts, but 
failed to find the people. As the Macleods were 
leaving the island, they espied one of the people, 
who was on the watch. Landing quickly from 
their boats, they found his tracks in the light 
snow, and traced him to the cave. Then, with 
fiendish cruelty, they gathered combustibles, and, 
placing them at the mouth of the cavern, set them 
on fire, thus smothering 200 people. 
Scott has thus described the tragedy : 


" The chief, relentless in his wrath, 
With blazing heath blockades the path ; 
In dense and stifling volumes rolled, 
The vapor filled the caverned hold ! 
The warrior's threat, the infant's plain, 
The mother's screams, were heard in vain ! 
The vengeful chief maintains his fires. 
Till in the vault a tribe expires ! 
The bones which strew that cavern's gloom 
Too well attest their dismal doom." 

Rum island is passed, which is thirty miles in 
circumference ; then Canna comes in view. We 
entered Sleat sound, passing through Kyle Rhea. 
All along the way now in full view was the mag- 
nificent scenery of Skye. There was Annandale 
castle, the seat of Lord Macdonald. It is near the 
shore, on a gentle slope, surrounded by planta- 
tions of trees planted by human hands. At a 
certain point Lord Macdonald's factor, a very 
officious, overbearing man, came on board the 
steamer. We passed Scalpa and Raasay, and 
reached Portree, in Skye, in the night. Skirting 
the shores of these islands, plainly in sight, were 
the low, thatch-roofed cottages of the crofters, 
very near each other, with a strip of land, perhaps 
six rods wide and fifteen rods in length, which 
constituted the farm of the occupant. As we 
neared many towns where there were no piers, the 
people would come out and meet us in their small 
boats, bringing passengers and merchandise for 
the ship, and carrying away stores for themselves. 
They usually spoke the Gaelic tongue. 


On the morning of the second day of our voy- 
age we reached Gairloch, on the main coast. The 
passage had given us some magnificent views of 
scenery. The Minch is a belt of sea between the 
main-land and the western islands. It is rough, 
choppy, and often dangerous. It was rough with 
us. The rain fell rapidly, and a thick mist envel- 
oped the sea. We had steamed toward the north 
for thirty-six hours. A novelty was about the 
trip, and to be in that out-of-the-way part of the 
world had a wonderful fascination to me. Toward 
evening, on the second day of our voyage, the 
rough, bare, jagged, rocky hills of the island of 
Lewis broke upon our sight as we entered the 
harbor of Stornoway. 

So I was in Stornoway at last, and this fact 
afforded me the liveliest satisfaction. The city 
had great attractions for me. Barely had my feet 
touched the soil when I was accosted: "Is this the 
Rev. Mr. Fogan ?" My questioner was assured to 
the contrary, but informed that he would find that 
gentleman and his wife on the steamer. After 
registering at the hotel, a messenger was despatch- 
ed for my mail, which soon reached me. The 
post-master of the city was Norman Morison, Esq., 
a clansman, and a fine, intelligent gentleman. 
We had once corresponded. Hardly had my mail 
reached me before he was announced, and greeted 
me heartily, and gave me the kindest welcome to 
Stornoway. A delightful evening was spent in 


that far-away city of the north, while the warring 
elements rattled the hotel windows, and the beat- 
ing rain fell heavily on the ground. Subsequent- 
ly^ at his " ain fireside," surrounded by his agree- 
able family, I was given the warm welcome of a 
clansman. Truly, Scottish hearts are warm and 
very kind. 


HE island of Lewis and Harris is known as 
Long Island, and comprises 561,200 square 
acres, with some 30,000 people. The part called 
Harris is owned by the Earl Dunmore, while the 
larger part of the whole island of Lewis belongs 
to the heirs of the late Sir James Matheson. Sir 
James bought this a few years since for $950,000, 
and then built a magnificent castle at Stornoway, 
situated on a commanding eminence, having a 
prospect of the city, the harbor, the outlying dis- 


tricts, and the distant hills across the Minch, in 
the counties of Ross and Sutherland, on the main- 
land of Scotland. The late owner made things 
very attractive on his demense about the castle. 
He constructed ten miles of carriage drives and 
five miles of foot paths through it, and planted it 
with various kinds of shrubs and trees. The castle 
is unoccupied most of the time, as Lady Matheson 
prefers living in London. The whole island was 
spanned by fine roads by the late proprietor, and 
he did much for the betterment of the condition 
of the people. 

This island is some sixty miles in length, and 
from five to thirty miles in breadth. Innumerable 
lakelets are in the northern section, and in the 
southern part mountains raise their mighty forms 
into the sky from 3000 to 4000 feet, all bearing 
Scandinavian names given them by the old Norse 
residents centuries ago. The coast is full of bays 
and inlets abounding with fish. The western 
section has much productive land, but the eastern 
part is not valuable for agriculture. 

Stornoway, with its 3000 people, is the chief 
town, and finely situated with the open bay in 
front. As one approaches it from the sea, it has 
an attractive look. It is one of those places to 
which "distance lends enchantment to the view." 
The city is treeless, with few signs of shrubbery, 
and the houses are of light stone. There was 
not a tree on the island till Sir James Matheson 



made his plantation. There is a strong flavor of 
fish about the town, for it is one of the most noted 
points for the herring fishery in the world. The 
principal business of the people is fishing, besides 
cultivating a little plot of ground. 

One Sabbath was spent in Stornoway. Four 
thousand fishermen were in the city to spend 
that day, and the number of their boats in the 
harbor was estimated at one thousand. Many of 
the men and women were from England, and as 
perfect specimens of human beings in robust and 
perfect health as one ever saw. The wives and 
daughters of these fishermen remain in the city 
to cure the fish. 

Attended service on the Sabbath at the Eng- 
lish-speaking Free church, Rev. Mr. Martin, pas- 
tor; and in the afternoon at Gaelic church, where 
the preaching was in that tongue. The churches 
are plain in all respects. Monday morning was 
bright and fair, and the city was early astir, as the 
multitude of fishermen were thronging into their 
boats and spreading their sails. The harbor was 
black with their black wings as they put out to 
sea, and finally faded from our view beneath the 
distant silvery waters. It was an extraordinary 
spectacle, one which perhaps could be seen in no 
other place on the globe. 

Stornoway is as far north as the central portion 
of Hudson's bay. Pleasant memories of the place 
linger with me. Norman Morison and I took 


many attractive rambles there. We saw all sec- 
tions ; crossed to the high eminence, by the great 
castle ; went through the magnificent plantations 
on hill and in dale, where each tree and shrub were 
planted by human hands ; passed over high bridges 
where the views seemed like fairy land, as we be- 
held the waters rush over ragged ledges, and 
heard their rippling music ; went to the highest 
point where, in the shadows of departing day, 
were fine views of the shipping, of the harbor, 
and of Stornoway — quiet, peaceful city of Storn- 
oway; not beautiful in itself, but very lovely 
from that shady height when the sun is sinking, 
when the twilight is deepening, and the glory 
of declining day falls upon the sea, the distant 
landscape, and the nearer city spires. Strange 
seemed the length of days, even in May, in that 
far-away island, in the far-away north, where it 
was twilight at two in the morning, where one 
could see to read at three, and where the even- 
ing shadows only deepened into darkness after 
ten at night. 

Lewis is the early home of the sept or clan 
Morison. In the district of Ness, near the Butt 
of Lewis, the very northernmost point, the Mor- 
isons have for many centuries had their home. 

" Like the water-fowl, they built their nests among the ocean's waves." 

In a "Description of Lewis, by John Morisone, 
Indweller There," written before 1688, he says, — 


20 1 


"All the Morisons of Scotland may challenge 
their descent from this man," Mores, the son of 
Kennanus, whom the Gaelic historians call Maku- 
rich, son to one of the kings of Norway, "some 
of whose posteritie remain in the island to this 
day." The chief of the clan Morison lived at 
Habost, Ness, and was hereditary judge, or brieve 
(breitheamh), of Lewis. "On assuming office he 
swore he would administer justice as evenly as 
the backbone of the herring lies between the two 
sides of the fish." 

It is asserted that Kenneth More or Mhoir, an 
ancestor of the Morisons, 
accompanied the " Good 
Sir James Douglass" into 
Spain with the heart of 
King Robert Bruce, and 
in a charge against the 
Moors to rescue Sir Will- 
iam St. Clair, of Roslin, in 
which Douglass was killed 
(see page 168), Kenneth 
More slew three Moors, 
and cut off their heads, 
when one of the Scottish 
host exclaimed, "One Scottish Christian More 
can kill three pagan Moors ! " 

The arms of different branches vary but little. 

Arms Morison (Preston Grange, Scotland), New 
Register. Argent (silver or white) ; three Moors' 


Coat of Arms. 


heads couped, sable, two, and one banded of the first. 
Crest, three Saracen heads ; motto, Pretio -prudentia 
■p7-aestat, — rendered, "Prudence precedes the prize." 

An heiress of the Morisons having declared 
she would wed only a Morison, Cain Macdonald, 
of the island of Ardnamurchan, passed himself 
off for a Morison, became her husband, and also 
brieve. This marriage took place previous to 

Besides the district of Ness and the island of 
Harris the Morisons were dominant in Diurness, 
in Lord Reay's country. The tradition of the 
settlement is, that Ay Morison went to Thurso in 
the county of Caithness on a business enterprise, 
and there married the daughter of the Bishop of 
Caithness, who bestowed on the young couple 
the whole of Diurness, with Ashir. This Morison 
subsequently brought from Lewis a colony of 
some sixty families of Morisons, "to whom he 
gave lands upon his property; hence it is that the 
name of Morison is prevalent in these parts, for 
though the property has fallen into other hands, 
the stock of the inhabitants remains." In Lewis 
there were continued feuds between the Morisons, 
Macleods, and Macaulays. 

The Morisons are very numerous in Lewis, and 
in 1 86 1 numbered 1,402 persons, or one fifteenth 
of the population. In Harris there were 530, or 
one seventh of the inhabitants. They have been 
numerous there for centuries. They emigrated 


to the main-land by scores of families centuries 
ap-o. Thev have multiplied and branched out till 
now they are scattered over Scotland, England, 
Ireland, and are in all parts of America, Austra- 
lia, and other countries. The Macaulays and the 
Morisons have intermarried, and it was a pleasure 
to meet an elderly lady. Miss A. Stuart Morison, 
who was a cousin of Lord Macaulay the historian. 
One day, while riding, I asked the driver his name, 
and was surprised when he said, "Morison." The 
Morisons are so numerous in Scotland that it 
ceased to be a curiosity to meet one of the 

The Morisons, like the Campbells, the Arm- 
strongs, the Macdonalds, the Johnstons, the Mac- 
kenzies, the Macaulays, the Elliots, the Scotts, 
the Macleods, and other distinctly Scotch families, 
are scattered over the earth. Wherever one is 
found of the names mentioned, if he comes right- 
fully by it and his pedigree can be fully traced, it 
will lead back to Scotland. 

The Macaulays were another ancient and pow- 
erful rival family in Lewis. They were settled at 
Uig, and there were many bitter feuds between 
them and the rival clans of Morison and Macleod. 
It was from the Lewis clan that Thomas Babbing- 
ton Macaulay, the celebrated essayist, historian, 
and statesman, sprang. His celebrity has thrown 
great honor on the family, and made the name 
familiar in all parts of the world. 


The Macleods were a considerable clan also in 
Lewis and in Harris, and the history of the fam- 
ilies of Morison, Macaulay, and Macleod is insep- 
arably connected, as they were rival clans, and 
frequently at war, and foraging on each others' 

On the morning of May 20th I took the mail 
car from Stornoway for Garra-na-hina in the inte- 
rior, fourteen miles away. It was a chill, clear 
morning as we whirled out of the city, past the 
castle and the plantations, past a camp of Gypsies, 
into the open country, where one of the first sights 
that greeted us was a gray crow taking his break- 
fast of cold lamb. These crows are large and 
handsome, and more pugnacious, persistent, and 
troublesome than their cousins, the black crows of 

We were travelling toward the sunset. There 
were endless miles of dreary moorland, unrelieved 
by the beauties of vegetation save the reddish 
brown heather. In the far beyond were the 
high swelling mountains. Between us and them 
were winding streams and the sparkling waters 
of numberless lakes, which reflected in their 
bosoms the great depths of blue above as they 
glistened and glimmered in the brightness of 
the morning sunlight. But no trees, no shrubs, 
no blooming flowers were there. Beautiful it was, 
but not the beauty of abounding life, for over 
those solitary stretches of moor were few tokens 


of joyful existence. Over it all was the beauty of 
sadness, deep melancholy, and death. 

" O land of red heather ! 
O land of wild weather ! 
And the cry of the waves, 
And the sigh of the breeze." 

We travelled in the untenanted part of Lewis, 
We neared the point of destination. We reached 
the brow of the hill overlooking Garra-na-hina, 
which cannot be better described than in the glow- 
ing language of William Black, in his " Princess 
of Thule," for I was in the very locality described 
by him in his charming work : "At length they 
came upon the brow of the hill overlooking Garra- 
na-hina, and the panorama of the western lochs 
and mountains. Down there on the side of the 
hill was the small inn, with its little patch of gar- 
den ; then a few moist meadows leading over to 
the estuary of the Black River, and beyond that an 
illimitable prospect of heathy undulations rising 
into the mighty peaks of Cracabhal, Mealasabhal, 
and Suainabhal. Then on the right, leading away 
out to the as yet invisible Atlantic, lay the blue 
plain of Loch Roag, with a margin of yellow sea- 
weed along its shores, where the rocks revealed 
themselves at low water, and with a multitude of 
large, variegated, and verdant islands, which hid 
from sight the still greater Borva beyond." 

I stopped at the inn where the distinguished 
novelist has often been a guest, and which, justly 
or not, has been claimed as the original of the 



home of "Sheila" and the "King of Borva." I 
met the aunt of the fair Scottish maiden, who 
some assert was the person who originated in 
Wilham Black's mind the lovely character of the 
Princess of Thule. Though this claim has been 
denied by the gifted author, yet the parties them- 
selves are not averse to the notoriety it has given 
them, and the photographs of this Scottish lady 
have been sold to tourists from all sections of the 
world. The inn is built of stone, and is attractive 
and homelike. The remains of a Pietist tower, 
which antedates veritable history, stand in their 
loneliness on a high elevation. 

Two miles from the hotel, and distinctly to be 
seen, is Callernish, sixteen miles from Stornoway, 

with its distinguished 
feature, the druidical 
stones, or cruciform 
sun temple, said to 
be the most perfect 
remains of the kind 
in Great Britain. I 
walked to this inter- 
esting place, called 
by the natives Turu- 
sachan, "The house 
of mourning," which 
is situated near Loch Roag, on the west coast of 
Lewis. It is aptly described as follows: "The 
stones are forty-eight in number, and are arranged 


Druidical Stones at Callernish. 


in a cruciform manner, with a circle at the inter- 
section. The long leg of the cross extends from 
south to north 392 feet, and the transverse line 
approximating to right angles measures 141 feet, 
while the circle is 42 feet in diameter. The stones 
are not hewn, but are rough, undressed blocks of 
gneiss standing upright. By many these stones 
are supposed to mark a worshipping-place of the 
druids, and in antiquity to greatly antedate the 
Christian era. 

The stones are from 10 to 12 feet above the 
surface, and stand like weird sentinels of a former 
age, of a worship which has passed away, of a peo- 
ple whose history has forever disappeared. Dur- 
ing many centuries they have endured the blaz- 
ing sun, the buffetings of storm and tempest, and 
have been unmolested by the many generations 
of men who have passed away since their erec- 
tion. A peat-bed more than five feet in thick- 
ness has been removed from about them, having 
grown since the ancient worshippers gathered 
there. Two other places similar to this, though 
not so extensive, are in the same locality. 

Leaving this interesting spot, it was my deter- 
mination to see and investigate somewhat the 
houses and home-life of the people in this densely 
populated district, as there were evidences on 
every hand of a kind of life not familiar to me. 
At a short distance from the druidical stones, in 
plain view, was a dusky line of huts, and others 


were thickly scattered over the descending ground 
to the dark waters in the lowlands beneath. The 
blue, dingy peat smoke rose slowly from the roofs, 
and gave a peculiar look to the habitations of 
the crofters and fishermen combined. Picking my 
way along by stepping from stone to stone, — for 
stones cropped out thickly in the wet, cold, 
spongy ground, — I reached one of the huts, which 
are different somewhat from those in the lowlands 
of Scotland. 

They are built of large rough stones, at least 
five feet in height, and some three feet in thick- 
ness. Any wood of sufficient length and strength 
answers the purpose of making the frame-work 
of the roof, which is covered thickly with long 
grass. Many strong grass ropes pass from side 
to side of the roof, at intervals of about a foot, to 
which stones are attached to prevent the heavy 
winds from destroying the coverings of their 
dwellings. The huts are perhaps five rods in 
length, and twelve to fifteen feet in width. About 
fifteen feet from one end is the front door and 
entrance. This also serves as the back door and 
as the end door, and, to carry out the utility of the 
scheme, it also answers as the stable door, for it is 
the only entrance for the family and stock. All 
are housed beneath the same roof. Two thirds 
of the space is appropriated for the cows and other 
domestic animals, which comprises that portion of 
the mansion at which is the entrance. Passing in 


the rear of the animals, some thirty feet, one 
enters the Hving-room of the family, the kitchen, 
bed-room, and parlor, all in one, with only a sub- 
division of light stone wall. 

This apartment is separated from the stock by 
a rude partition of unmatched boards. In the 
centre of the room, whose floor is usually the solid 
ground, is a peat fire, while above in the roof is 
a hole eight inches square, which answers for a 
chimney. The apartment will be dense with 
smoke, and so purposely, for it is intended that 
the smoke shall penetrate and soak the thatched 
roof, which is frequently removed and used as a 
fertilizer to the soil. In a dark night one viewing 
these cabins, with the pale peat smoke issuing 
from all parts of the roof, would suppose they 
were on fire. This is an accurate description of 
such homes as I have seen and visited. 

I called at one of these houses and rapped at 
the door, when from the interior came the re- 
sponse, "Come in." I stepped inside the door, 
and went down a foot and a half before my feet 
struck solid ground. This was the spring-time, 
and the stable had been thoroughly cleared. The 
place was dark and full of smoke. Groping my 
way along, I saw mine host at last, who was 
nailing a board to the partition between his parlor 
and the stable. He greeted me with self-respect- 
ful courtesy and cordiality, though with evident 
surprise, and gave me the best seat the room 



afforded, which was a backless chair. Beside this 
there was only a rough wooden bench. On the 
ground in the centre of the room a peat fire was 
slowly smouldering. 

Toward the end a stone wall, three feet high, 
was built across the room, leaving a walk between 

that and the side of 
the cottage. This 
was evidently a 
sleeping apartment. 
The rooms are dim- 
ly lighted by small 
windows. The 
crofters speak Gae- 
lic, and many can 
also speak English. 
The family consisted 

Cottage; AND Pictish Tower. of the husband and 

wife, a daughter fifteen years of age, and a young 
child. This man, like his neighbors, had a small 
plot of ground, which he cultivated, and the re- 
mainder of his time was spent in fishing. He was 
intelligent, and well informed in Scotch history, 
and was a tall, fine-looking man. He spoke of 
the condition of the crofters, and knew their 
wrongs, but they were in the clutches of their 
landlords, who had the law and wealth and power 
upon their side. What could they do? If they 
built better houses, had better furniture, or im- 
proved their lands, their rents would be increased 


accordingly. All would be for the benefit of the 
landlords. He then accompanied me for an hour 
or two among his neighbors, and over their lands. 
When we parted, his manner exhibited as much 
politeness as that of any gentleman. Other cot- 
tages were visited, but they are alike. The inhab- 
itants are a self-respecting, moral, kind people, 
and with a fair chance in life would make as 
intelligent and fine a race as we have in America. 

Often upon the "Queen's highway" we met 
men, women, girls, and boys, many of them bare- 
footed, with great bundles upon their backs, going 
to Stornoway. Their shoes were in their packs, 
but before entering the city they would put them 
upon their feet. They were good-natured, with 
frank, open countenances, and had none of that 
servile appearance which one sees in the people 
in many parts of Europe. 

Many read a few months ago of the little re- 
bellion among the crofters in Skye, who did not 
know the causes, which were not clearly under- 
stood. But it is not difficult to account for the 
discontent among the poor crofters of Skye and 
the adjacent islands. Much of the land is unfit 
for cultivation. The results of labor are uncer- 
tain, and the climate is unfavorable. The land 
system is nearly as bad as it can be. The greater 
part of Skye belongs to one proprietor, as Lewis 
does to another. The curse of great estates, in- 
tended for the support of a double or triple set of 


dependents upon the soil, is felt in these islands. 
Many of the lands are held by middlemen, — men 
between the owner and the cultivator, men who 
hold the land by lease and sublet it at higher rates 
to others, thus levying a second rent, which is al- 
most unendurable in the Hebrides. 

The crofters are small renters who hold little 
fields or gardens, such as have been described, 
upon the most uncertain of tenures, that of tenants 
at will, and at exorbitant rents. They live largely 
by fishing, and serving summer tourists, and their 
lives are one long, hard battle with destitution and 
with fearful obstacles. Into their lives flows no 
sunshine of prosperity, as Americans understand 
that word, but into them pours an almost over- 
whelming flood of trouble and adversity. 

That there should be trouble among an exces- 
sive population thus situated is not surprising, but 
it is wonderful that there is not more. A people 
who at best have only the barest possibility for 
subsistence, and exposed to the loss of that by 
common circumstances or the arbitrary will of their 
oppressors, are not apt to be particular as to legal 
forms in their efforts to preserve themselves, their 
wives, and their little ones from starvation and 

The land troubles in Ireland have been agitated 
for years, and are being settled. The murmuring 
of the people is heard in Scotland ; and there is a 
dark day for Britain coming unless the wrongs 


under which her common people Hve are redressed 
speedily. The mutterings of a coming- storm are 
distinctly heard; and unless the rulers of Britain 
are wise enough to allay the discontent of her 
people by simple justice, the storm will burst upon 
the land with cyclonic power, and sweep away the 
whole nefarious system of landlordship and land- 
ownership, as at present existing. It ought to be 
wiped out, and the sooner the better. My sym- 
pathies are wholly with the people, and it is my 
sincere hope and desire that a strong agitation will 
be kept up by proper means in Scotland till the 
whole land system is changed, and the land comes 
into the possession of the people. It is said that 
seventy men own one half of Scotland. Britons 
are very free in criticizing the United States gov- 
ernment and Americans, but are rather restive 
when the great wrongs under which so many of 
their people live are pointed out. It was with 
peculiar delight that upon more than one occasion 
it was my privilege to suggest to some of them the 
propriety of rectifying some of the great wrongs 
which exist there, before accusing the United 
States government of being "the most corrupt 
one on the face of the earth." 



§N the morning of May 21 I left the wind- 
swept shores of Lewis by steamer for Ulla- 
pool, en route to Inverness, 113 miles distant. 
We were soon upon the tossing waters of the 
Minch; and the white houses of Stornoway, look- 
ing like chalky cliffs, sank lower and lower into 
the blue sea and disappeared. Lewis, with its 
music of the sea and mountains, passed from my 
vision. Mentally I still behold it, and its mem- 
ories will only be swept away by death. The 
Minch was rough, and the chilly air added to the 
discomfort of the sea voyage. In four hours we 
landed at Ullapool, fifty miles distant. As we 
neared the main coast of Scodand, the high, glo- 
rious mountains loomed up before us. The 
peak of Ben More was upon our left, and Ben 
Goleach upon our right. 

Ullapool, lying upon Loch Broom, is a decayed 
looking town of little interest. The stage runs 
to Garve, thirty-two miles away. Pleasant trav- 
elling companions bore me company. Among 
them were Rev. Mr. Martin, of Stornoway, and 
his friend, a bright, witty ministerial brother. 


The latter told an anecdote of a friend who was a 
physician in Leith. A clerical gentleman was vis- 
iting him, when the physician requested him to 
converse and pray with his patients. After vis- 
iting several, the physician led the way up a 
flight of rickety stairs, and said, — "This is a 
peculiarly sad case. The patient inside is the 
last of his family. Two sisters have died, and 
he is at the point of death with the same disease, 
small-pox. Come in and pray with him." The 
clergyman no sooner heard these words than he 
bolted down stairs like a bullet. The physician 
urged him to do his duty, and see his patient, 
saying, "Where is your faith, brother — where is 
your faith?" But the clergyman, as he shot into 
the street, exclaimed, " Faith or no faith, I'll get 
out of this;" and he did. There was no patient 
there : it was a practical joke. 

The way from Ullapool to Garve is through 
varied and fine scenery. The first eight miles 
skirts Loch Broom, a narrow arm of the sea. Pass- 
ing over a flat, cultivated country, we came to a 
steep gorge in the hills by the side of which the 
road ascended for more than a mile, where there 
was a broad belt of flat country 500 feet above 
the sea. The steep slope and the sides of the 
gorge have been beautified by being covered with 
trees of various kinds by the proprietor. Through 
the narrow ravine runs a little river. Here is a 
very lovely waterfall called Corry Halloch, one of 


the most attractive in northern Scotland. For a 
mile the steep walls of rock at its sides rise from 
the water's edge 150 to 200 feet. The owner has 
thrown a bridge across the deepest cut, w^hich 
commands a view of the falls. 

From this elevation the ride to Garve was 
through a comparatively wild and barren country. 
The rugged mountains rose abruptly around us, 
bare and treeless, save where the opulent owners 
had planted the Scotch larch, which in some 
localities they had covered to their summits. The 
wet, spongy, boggy moorlands were cut up with 
ditches to drain them, and they too were covered 
with trees. The moors and the mountains are 
thus arranged for game, and the division fences 
of w^ire are plainly visible running up moun- 
tain sides so steep that it seems almost impossi- 
ble for man to climb them. There are opens 
where not a tree is allowed to grow. They extend 
up the mountain, and there the sportsman stands 
and shoots the game when driven from cover 
across this unprotected place by the gamekeepers. 
Many thousands of acres of once bleak mountains 
and barren moors have been planted with trees, 
and are used as game forests. There the gentry 
of England and Scodand gather for their holidays. 
Mr. Winans, of Baltimore, owns or leases great 
tracts, and there spends his summer months. 

On the journey we reached Loch Druim, or 
Rido-e Loch, and for some distance the road runs 


along its bank and then touches a point 950 feet 
above sea level. This is the water-shed. Here 
the waters divide, one portion flowing east through 
Loch Garve into the German ocean, the other 
flowing westward into Loch Broom and the At- 
lantic. In that land of storms one is never 
secure against their coming. The remainder of 
the journey was made in a cold, drizzling rain, 
which chilled us to the marrow. Ben Wyvis, 
"The mountain of storms," was before us, with 
the heavy, misty clouds hanging and drifting about 
its summit, with the rain beating against its steep, 

rocky sides. 

As we entered Garve at 4 p. m., though each 
passenger had paid for his passage, the driver 
turned around with the words "Driver's fees!" 
and levied his tribute on each passenger. We 
caught the evening train for Inverness. As far 
as Dingwall the road led through a romantic 
locality, but the rest of the distance was in a 
rich and finely cultivated country. At 6 the train 
whirled into Inverness, the queen of the High- 
lands. I registered at the Station hotel. 

There is an excellent public library, managed 
with much tact and ability. The librarian, Mr. 
White, is a most genial, interesting, and cour- 
teous gendeman, with whom I was acquainted by 
correspondence. I called upon him, and received 
a most hearty welcome. He showed me every 
attention at the library, and introduced me to 



Other gentlemen. I also met Mr. Alexander 
Mackenzie, editor and publisher of the " Celtic 
Magazine," with whom I had previously had com- 
munication. Mr, Mackenzie was a member of the 
city government, and conducted me over their 
new and elegant city hall, and to other places of 

The Scotch people walk much more than Amer- 
icans, and think nothing of a pedestrian tour of 
ten or fifteen miles. On the sunny afternoon of 
May 25th Mr. White and I started for a walk, the 
battle-field of Culloden, six miles distant, being 
the objective point. Our route lay over a pleasant 
road, through a lovely, fertile country. Shade- 
trees, tall and stately, lined much of the way. 
Ayrshire cattle and fine specimens of South Down 
sheep were feeding in the fields, which were high 
with grass of the greenest tint. Our way over- 
looked the Firth of Moray, and the lofty, snow- 
capped mountain of Ben Wyvis was in the dis- 
tance. In the vicinity of " Culloden's dread moor" 
are the houses in which the government troops 
stabled their horses the night before the battle. 
They are situated in a pasture which was com- 
pletely covered with luxuriant whins. These are 
prickly shrubs or plants three feet high, and are 
indigenous to Ireland and Scotland. They were 
in full bloom, the whole plot of ground was 
brilliant with their golden colors, and they were 
as sweet and beautiful as the choicest garden of 


The battle was fought April i6, 1746, and 
on this field was decided the fate of the House 
of Stuart : it forever expelled them from the 
throne of Britain. Prince Charlie and his High- 
land clans were defeated by the government troops. 
This was the last battle fought on Scotch soil. 
The Highlanders were marshalled by clans, they 
fought by clans, they were swept down bodily and 
died by clans, and on the bleak, sterile land of 
Culloden moor they are buried by clans. Strange 
as it may seem, one can distinctly see as clearly 
as if drawn out on paper the exact spots where 
the different clans stood, and fell, and died, and 
where they lie buried. One hundred and thirt)- 
eight years of sunshine and storms had come and 
gone since that terrible day. For one hundred 
and thirty-eight years the grass had stirred in the 
breezes above them ; and yet on that spring day 
their last resting-place was green, while all about 
them was the dark brown heather. Half a mile 
beyond is a boulder, rising six feet above the 
ground and some sixteen feet across. On this 
rock stood the Duke of Cumberland, and directed 
the movements of the government forces. There 
are headstones showinor where the members of 
each clan are buried. One is marked Clan Cam- 
eron, another Clan Mackintosh, another Clan 
Mackenzie, and one is marked Mixed Clans. 
The battle was badly managed on the part of the 
Highlanders, and the lives of hundreds of brave 


Scots were thrown away on account of the im- 
becility of Prince Charlie. A hugh cairn of stones 
some twenty feet high stands on another part of 
the field. 

" Oh ! loud and long heard shall their coronach be, 
And high o'er the heather their cairn we shall see." 

One can find in no other city in Scotland so 
perfect a representation of the ancient clans as he 
will see in Inverness. In the city directory there 
are several pages of a single clan name, like the 
Macdonalds, the Mackintoshes, and the Macken- 
zies. It was at one of their weekly market days 
that I saw the typical Celt, with red hair, red 
beard, high cheek bones, and freckled face. They 
are far from being amiable looking men. Their 
looks and manners show them to be sharp, fiery, 
and quick-tempered. As one goes among the 
crowds he will be greatly amused and edified 
at what he sees and hears, and can select by the 
score Celts of the type described. All manner of 
merchandise is bought and sold, and the native 
bard sells his mental productions. 

Inverness is a jewel of the far north, and con- 
tains 20,000 people. It lies at the mouth of and 
on the river Ness, which flows placidly over a 
smooth, pebbly bottom, through the centre of the 
city, and is spanned by fine bridges. The city 
has its castle, its cathedral, and many other at- 
tractive places. My stay was made delightful by 


the great kindness shown me by the persons pre- 
viously mentioned, and others. 

A lady said to me, — "Don't fail to go through 
the Caledonian canal. When you have passed 
its entire length and seen its beauties, you will be 
thankful that you have lived." It connects In- 
verness Firth with Loch Dochfour, the latter with 
Loch Ness (Lake of the Cataract), this with Loch 
Oichy, the latter with Loch Lochy, and this with 
Locheil or Loch Linnhe, which in conjunction with 
the Crinan canal, eight miles in length, which 
unites Loch Crinan or Sound of Jura with Loch 
Fyne, furnishes an uninterrupted water communi- 
cation between Inverness and Glasgow, and cuts 
Scotland in two. 

On May 26th, at 7 o'clock a. m., at Muirtown, 
an outskirt of Inverness, I went on board the 
steamer to make this journey, which occupied two 
days. There can be but few routes on the planet 
of equal distance which exhibit so many lovely 
places as this. The scenery was most charming, 
which one must see in order to appreciate. The 
lakes, the graceful windings of the canal through 
green fields or through groves of Scotch firs, the 
high mountains, the remains of old castles which 
nestled at the base of the steep declivities or near 
the waters of lakes, combined to make the journey 
of wonderful interest. We were two hours pass- 
ing through the seven locks, which are remarkable. 
We halted at Foyers, which gave the passengers 


an opportunity to see the Falls of Foyers, which 
have a perpendicular descent of two hundred feet, 
and are very noted. Passing Ben Nevis, we 
reached Ballachulish at 5 o'clock in the afternoon. 

I registered at the nearest hotel, and secured 
a horse and " machine" with driver to take me 
through the noted Pass of Glencoe. The horse 
engaged was to be a good driver, and the guide 
was to be intelligent, and capable of speaking good 
English. The horse furnished me by this high- 
toned Scotch hotel proprietor was poor and lame; 
the "machine," a two-wheeled vehicle, was un- 
comfortable; and the driver was ignorant, and 
spoke such broken English that his speech was 
hardly intelligible. Thus the journey was made. I 
was now in the celebrated Pass of Glencoe, which 
means in the Gaelic tongue "Glen of weeping." 
Well is it termed the "Glen of weeping," for it 
was a vale of sorrow, and a melancholy interest 
will ever linger around this wild and gloomy pass 
in the district of Lome in the county of Argyle. 
Here occurred the fearful massacre of the Mac- 
donalds, February 13, 1692, by which it was in- 
tended to exterminate this portion of the clan. 

King James II had been driven from the throne 
of England by his son-in-law, William Prince of 
Orange. The contest had stirred England, Ire- 
land, and Scotland to their deepest depths. At 
this date peacefulness rested not upon the polit- 
ical waters. The billows of the surging, seething 


political sea were still breaking angrily upon the 
shore. The heroic defence of Londonderry, Ire- 
land, in 1688-89, ^"'^.d been successful, but certain 
Hio-hland clans had not sfiven in their adherence 
to the new o-overnment. 

On the 27th of August, 1691, a proclamation 
was issued offering indemnity to all who were 
then or who had been in arms against William of 
Orange, provided they would take the oath of 
allegiance before January i, 1692, subject to the 
pain of death after that date. The various chiefs 
took the oath, but the Glencoe chieftain delayed, 
not so much out of hatred to King William as on 
account of a quarrel with the Earl of Breadalbane, 
who was a personal foe. Repenting of his obsti- 
nacy, on December 3 1 he appeared at Ft. Will- 
iam for that purpose, but the officer declined to 
administer it, claiming no authority. Then the 
sorrowing chief hastened across the almost im- 
passable mountains, covered as they were with 
snow, to the sheriff of Argyle at Inverary, who 
administered the oath to him and his attendants, 
January 6, 1692. As the time for receiving the 
oath of allegiance had expired before his was 
taken, by the misrepresentations of Breadalbane, 
as it is claimed, to King William, he signed the 
order for the government troops to wipe out and 
extirpate the clan. They came in the guise of 
friendship, and were treated with hospitality. On 
the morning of February 13, 1692, they stealthily 


massacred as many of their entertainers as they 
could reach. Many were slain, some fled to 
the hills. Their houses were burned down, their 
stock driven away, and the women and children, 
who escaped the sword as they fled to the moun- 
tains for safety, were overcome with fatigue and 
hunger and cold, and perished pitifully in the deep 
snows on the mountain sides. Such is a brief 
history of this event. The place had a wonderful 
interest to me, as some persons in New Hamp- 
shire are descendants of people who perished 
that fateful day. 

We entered Ballachulish, where are the slate 
quarries which have been worked for a century or 
more. The village is inhabited by miners, on a 
long, continuous, winding street. The habita- 
tions were cheap, but cleanly. Going through 
this, we entered the Pass of Glencoe. The open- 
ing was beautifully green with trees. The cot- 
tages were scattered about the valley, and the cat- 
tle and sheep grazed through it and up the steep 
mountain sides as far as vegetation reached. The 
Cona, a little, shallow stream, was flowing along 
over its pebbly bed through the ravine, chanting 
the sweet song of running waters. We entered 
the wildest part of this glorious valley. There 
were the stern, precipitous mountains which on 
either side reared their mighty forms from two to 
three thousand feet. Their peaks were of a crim- 
son hue, lighted up, as they were, by the afternoon 


sun. No living beings moved about those solitary 
hills. No signs of present habitation were there. 
Half way along the pass are trees and heaps of 
stones, which mark the walls of houses once the 
homes of the murdered Macdonalds. They tell the 
story of man's inhumanity to man. They give evi- 
dence to every passer by of that morn of lamen- 
tation, and cry into living ears the bloody tale of 
treachery, murder, and woe. 

More than a thousand feet above us on the 
mountain side is Ossian's Cave, where, they tell 
us, the poet lived. All along the valley the vio- 
lence of the torrents rushing down the sides of 
the mountains have made huge gullies, and 
brought down great quantities of stones, sweep- 
ing across the highway, making the travelling 
anything but pleasant. We went eight miles up 
through this romantic vale. On our return to 
Ballachulish, as we emerged from the pass, the 
sun had sunk behind the hills, the shades of night 
were falling rapidly over the silent mountains, 
while the deep recesses in that "Glen of weep- 
ing" were wrapped in a mande of deeper dark- 
ness. From the hotel there was a view of the 
waters of Loch Leven. 

On the morrow the journey was resumed by 
boat to Glasgow. At Crinan, on the Sound of 
Jura, we entered a small boat, whose sides almost 
grazed the rocky shores as it went through the 
Crinan canal. The latter is nine miles in length, 


with fifteen locks, and was built to avoid a cir- 
cuitous voyage of seventy miles around the mull 
of Cantyre; commenced in 1793, and opened in 
1801. Its rocky sides attest the enormous labor 
and cost of its construction. The terminus is at 
Andrishaig on Loch Fyne. Taking a large steam- 
er, we passed through Loch Fyne, near the 
Island of Bute, and north of Arran, entering the 
Firth of Clyde, and steaming over its placid wa- 
ters, amid fine scenery we entered the river Clyde. 
From Andrishaig to Glasgow we stopped at Tar- 
bet, Rothesay, Inellan, Dunoon, and Greenock, 
and before sunset had reached the pier amidst 
the shipping of the great city of Glasgow. I was 
once more on familiar ground, and again found 
comfortable quarters in St. Enoch's hotel, after a 
month's absence. On the hotel register was the 
name of an acquaintance from Buffalo, who had 
left the day previous. It was more than two 
weeks since I left Edinburgh, and during that 
time had received no mail from home. It missed 
me at Inverness, at Oban, and it was impossible 
for me to get it till I reached London. I was 
hungry for American news, as British papers give 
only the most meagre accounts. 

It would be a crime to be in Scotland and not 
visit the Scottish lakes. On the morning of 
Wednesday, May 28, I started from Queen's sta- 
tion for Loch Lomond, Loch Katrine, the Trossachs, 
and to return to Glasgow via Callander. Passing 






ox BEN LOMOiVD. 22/ 

out of Glasgow through Dumbarton, we took the 
steamer at Balloch to .cross Loch Lomond. The 
sun broke through the heavy morning mists, 
and the day became clear. The scenery around 
this lake is wild and grand. Its length is twenty- 
three miles, and it is studded with numerous 
islands. Rowardennan lies at the base of Ben 
Lomond. The mountain loomed up before us 
most invitingly and majestically, and I determined 
to visit the summit. Two gentlemen from London 
were to accompany me, and we started for the 
peak seven miles away. 

Mountain distances are deceptive. It looked 
but a short distance to the top. Mountain peak 
lapped on mountain peak and hid the intervening 
distances, which must be passed before the last 
great summit was gained. It would have been 
well had we then known and heeded the advice 
contained in the following lines: 

" Trust not at first a quick adventurous pace ; 
Seven miles its top points gradual from its base. 
Up the high rise with panting haste I passed, 
And gained the long, laborious steep at last." 

We intended to return in time to take the suc- 
ceeding boat, but found this impossible. When 
two thirds of the distance had been accomplished, 
my comrades left me and returned to the landing. 
My journey was continued alone. Having started 
for the summit, the summit I was determined to 
reach "if it took all summer." At last I stood on 


the topmost peak, 3,192 feet high. The day was 
clear, the sun shone brightly, and the prospect in 
all directions was very beautiful. Mountains reared 
their peaks beneath me. I could look down upon 
their tops; and in one place a lovely little lake 
nestled between their summits. In the west were 
the Argyleshire hills and the Grampian moun- 
tains, and in the great distance beneath me, south 
and east, were the fine Lowland country and its less- 
er elevations. Most beautiful was Loch Lomond, 
as it wound amono- the hills, its waters as blue 
as the sky, and its surface studded with islands. 
Steamers could be seen as they ploughed across 
it. Gathering some specimens of quartz, and pro- 
curing some snow from a cool, sequestered nook, 
I returned to the hotel. The descent was fatigu- 
ing, and the journey made quickly was calculated 
to greatly test one's powers of endurance. 

There are cosey resorts on the shores of the 
lake, where the water breaks gently over the 
sands and stones of the beach. I wandered along 
the bank till darkness was upon Ben Lomond, 
when I sought my room. With memories of the 
past in my mind, with the sound of the gentle 
splash of the waves in my ears, and the twinkling 
stars looking in at my chamber windows, I fell 

The following day took the boat to Inversnaid. 
Before reaching Tarbet we saw Rob Roy's cave, 
situated in the cliff some distance above the water. 


Inversnaid was reached, when I took the coach for 
Loch Katrine, eight miles away. The road led 
me through the old home of the MacGregors, 
and places were pointed out as the home of Rob 
Roy and the birth-place of Helen MacGregor, his 
wife. This locality was the scene of many of the 
exploits of the noted chief. 

MacGreofor is the name of a clan considered 
one of the purest of all the Celtic tribes, "and 
there can be no doubt of their unmixed and direct 
descent from the Albanich or Alpinian stock, which 
formed the aboriginal inhabitants of Scotland." 
They claimed a kingly origin, and their ancient 
motto was, "My race is royal." Glen Orchy is 
claimed as their original home. They were also 
numerous in Monteith and in Balquhidder. The 
latter place is north-east of Loch Lomond. An 
air of romance clings to this clan, mostly because 
of their relentless persecution by the government. 
The clan was proscribed. They were compelled 
by an act of the privy council, April 3, 1693, on 
pain of death, to adopt another surname, and por- 
tions of the clan were prohibited from carrying any 
weapons save a knife without a point, 

Rob Roy was of the Glenfyle branch of the 
family. This place is situated a few miles north 
of Inversnaid. We rode through this mountain- 
ous country, their former home, and once densely 
populated by the MacGregors, where the chief 
could, by the blast of his horn or the music of his 


bagpipes, rally a hundred brave men about him on 
short notice. All is changed. Nothing can now 
be heard save the bleating of sheep, and the only 
habitations visible are the gamekeepers' lodges, or 
the homes of those who tend the flocks of sheep 
or herds of cattle. Silence reigns there, so far as 
human beings are concerned, and the numerous 
tumble-down cottages of ancient cottagers tell the 
story of the oppression of the landlords, who de- 
populated the district, clearing ofl" the people en 
masse, compelling them to emigrate to America or 
to the cities, and converted their lands into game 
forests or sheep farms. This recalls the couplet 
of John Bright: 

" In Highland glens 't is far too oft observed 
That man is chased away and game preserved." 

We neared another lake made famous by Scott 
in "The Lady of the Lake." From a high hill, in 
the slightly changed words of the poem, — 

"Where, gleaming with the shining sun, 
One burnished sheet of living gold, 
Loch Katrine lay, beneath us rolled." 

Our eyes feasted upon the lovely lake, which is 
more romantic than Loch Lomond, and surpassing 
any that I saw in Scotland. At Stronachlachar 
we passed from the fine hotel on to the tiny 
steamer which bore us across the lake, which 
makes several tours each day. The lake is nar- 


row, and most lovely in its surroundings. We 
passed the entire length and close to "Ellen's 
Isle," — 

" Where for retreat in dangerous hour 
Some chief had framed a rustic bower." 

It is a small, rocky island, but picturesque, and 
covered with shrubbery. Mountains were about 
us. Be.n Venue in the south towered 2,393 f^^t 
into the sky. Alighting at the 
romantic rustic pier and covered 
walk, we took the four-horse coach 
in waiting to carry us through 
the Trossachs. This word means 
bristled territory, and is a wild, 
mountainous section of great beauty. The high 
hills kept their sentinel guard above and around 
us, till we reached and dined at the elegant Tros- 
sachs hotel, which commands a fine view of that 
region. The Trossachs are very pleasing, but 
there is not that extreme ruggedness and grand- 
eur, and the towering precipitous mountains, which 
are seen in some localities. Passing out of the 
bristled territory, we went along the shores of 
Loch Achray, a peaceful lake, and soon rode over 
the old and famous Brigg of Turk, spoken of in 
the lines, — 

" And when the Brigg of Turk was won, 
The headmost horseman rode alone." 

There is Loch Vennachar, five miles in length, 
and then the river Firth, which flows from it. To 



the south was pointed out the locaHty of Coilan- 
tangle Ford, where Roderick Dhu challenged Fitz- 
James to combat. 

" See, here all vantageless I stand, 
Armed like thyself with single brand ; 
For this is Coilantangle Ford, 
And thou must keep thee by thy sword." 

On a height near the road are the remains of 
an ancient British fort. Then we entered Callan- 
der. The whole route had been all that could be 

desired. The scen- 

ery was fine, the ter- 
ritory was historic. 
American scenery 
may be as beautiful, 
but it lacks history. 
It lacks the great 
binding power of 
thrillinor associa- 
tions. On reaching 
St. Enoch's hotel at 
Glasgow, I had the 
pleasure of meeting 
C. Cheney and family, of 

with Ex-Governor P 
New Hampshire. 

On May 30th I left Glasgow for England. Kil- 
marnock was the first important town reached. 
Here it was that the bright Scotch girl said she 
couldn't "see what it was that made her brother 
think so much of the lassies." For her part, she 


"would rather have one good man than all the 
lassies in Kilmarnock !" 

It was the earliest mentioned home of the Boyd 
family, now so numerous in Scotland, Ireland, and 
America. Robert Boyd, of Kilmarnock, who died 
before 1240, is the ancestor of the various fami- 
lies of that name. King Robert Bruce granted 
the lands of Kilmarnock, Bodington, and others, 
to his firm adherent. Sir Robert Boyd, ancestor 
of the Earls of Kilmarnock. The Boyds of Pinkhill, 
of Trochrig, were descended from Adam, son of 
Alexander, and son of Lord Robert Boyd, cham- 
berlain of Scotland in the minority of James III. 
Near the city of Kilmarnock is an ancient ivy- 
covered castle of the Boyds, which is of much 

Farther south is Dumfries, where died and is 
buried Robert Burns. Then the "Debatable 
Land" was reached, then the green fields of Eng- 

Among the saddest things in life are thwarted 
plans, sweet dreams that are never realized, fondly 
cherished hopes that never attain fulfilment. It 
had always been my desire to visit Scotland. 
This dream came true, the hope was realized, the 
expectation of enjoyment and intellectual profit 
had been fulfilled. 1 had journeyed many hun- 
dred miles from the south to the north, from the 
west to the east, from the east to the west, and 
from the surf-beaten shores of the Hebrides to the 



English border again ; had crossed her lovely 
lakes, sailed about her ocean-beaten coasts, roamed 
among her mountains, and mused on lofty sum- 
mits ; had trod her batde-fields, visited places 
sacred forever as the homes of many of her noblest 
and truest children, and stood by the places where 
their bodies repose in dreamless sleep. The hour 
was at hand which would bring this journey to 
a close; the moment drew nigh when the visit 
would belong to memory alone. When the after- 
noon sun sank in the west, her historic places and 
mountain peaks faded from my view, and I ceased 
to breathe the bracing air of the land of my an- 

The Scotch are a noble people. Life is deep 
and rich with them. It has a meaning and a 
reality. Would that it were broader! They have 
faults and foibles, but in spite of them and with 
them all, I love the Scotch people still — and dear 
old Scotland ! May the choicest, richest blessings 
rest upon her and them ! 

[See page i8i.] 



" This precious stone set in the silver sea." 

" All the fields 
Are tied up fast with hedges, * * 
The hills are crumpled plains, the plains pastures. 
And if you seek for any wilderness. 
You find at best a park. 

.1. " 

M AND of lands, how beautiful Is England ! In 
m the "Land of the Angles" has been a rich 
and varied life. In spite of errors and grave de- 
fects of its governments, its people have for cen- 
turies been rising to a nobler plane of life and 
thought, and to a truer liberty. There originated 
the English constitution, upon which all other 
free' ones are founded. There rulers were com- 
pelled to hear the voice of the people, and grant 
their reluctant consent to the demand for greater 
rights and broader privileges. Its literature is 
rich with the eloquence of her sons, the songs of 
her poets, and the glowing pages of her historians. 
To the tourist England seems gready unlike 
Scotland. Its annals are different. It is not a 


locality of clans, and different associations cling to 
her cities and towns. The change from the 

" Land of brown heath and shaggy wood " 

to the green verdure of England was pleasing. 
The farther south I travelled the more apparent 
became the approach of spring. The grass bore 
a greener tint and the trees a denser foliage. The 
great mountain ranges had vanished, and lesser 
ones were near. There were peace and quietness, 
and in close proximity were the greenness of a 
beautiful country and the loveliness of the English 

The unattractive, seedy city of Carlisle, with its 
old castle, or the remains of one, was the first 
place of importance visited. Then I reached Pen- 
rith, eight miles farther south. It is an ancient 
place of eight thousand people, and is in the 
southern portion of the county of Cumberland. 
A castle, beautiful in its ruins, overlooks the town, 
and adds to its interest. Brougham hall, the seat 
of the late Lord Brougham, is a mile and a half 
away. In the vicinity is Eden hall, on the river 
Eden, the seat of the border family of Musgraves, 
who came to England with William the Conqueror. 

Keswick, on the river Greta, is an interesting 
town. The Skiddaw mountain keeps guard about 
it. On an eminence is Greta hall, noted as being 
the home of Robert Southey, the poet laureate. 
He was born at Bedminster, near Bristol, Aug. 
12, 1774, was appointed poet laureate in 18 13, 


and died at Keswick March 21, 1843. This whole 
region abounds with lovely scenery, and perhaps 
in all England there is no locality, of so small a 
space, which has been honored by being the home 
of such a galaxy of persons of genius. Here lived 
Samuel Taylor Coleridge, the great prodigal of 
the richest gifts. He was born at Ottery, St. 
Mary, county of Devon, Oct. 21, 1772, and re- 
moved to Keswick about 1800. In 1808 or 1809 
he left his family to be cared for by his friend 
Southey, and went to live with Wordsworth at 
Grasmere. In 18 10 he left the Lake Country 
forever, and died at the house of his friend, Mr. 
Gilman, at Highgate, London, July 25, 1834. 

" He flung away 
Those keys that might have open set 

The golden sluices of the day, 
But clutched the keys of darkness yet." 

From Keswick I took the grand coach drive 
over Dunmail Raise Pass to Windermere, a dis- 
tance of twenty-two miles. It is one of the finest 
drives in northern England, and was the most 
enjoyable one to me. The day was perfect: no 
lovelier one ever dawned upon the earth. The 
whole way was filled with scenes of beauty and 
associations of the past. My travelling compan- 
ions were all that could be desired. 71iey con- 
sisted of a gentleman and his wife from Leeds, 
who occupied the forward seat with the driver, 
and four highly intelligent young ladies, two from 


London and two from Glasgow. It may with pro- 
priety be added that the presence of these latter 
did not detract at all from my pleasure in the ride. 
The remainder of the coach was filled with tran- 
sient passengers and baggage. 

We left Keswick, with coach and four horses, in 
the early morning, and as we were driven rapidly 
through the narrow streets, from hotel to hotel, 
the driver merrily sounded his horn. How odd 
were the names of inns ! There were "The Fish," 
"Dog and Duck," ''Fighting Cocks," "Deer- 
hound," "Pig and Whistle," "Red Lion," "Black 
Lion," "Elephant and Castle," "Lamb and Lark," 
and I know not how many more. 

We drove through narrow streets, and through 
the market-place, — which even at that early hour 
was filled with the people from the country, with 
their produce, who were chaffering with the buy- 
ers, — out of the village, over a road as perfect 
as could be made, to the top of a hill overlooking 
Keswick lake, or Derwentwater, as it is oftener 
called. This lake is three and a half miles long 
and perhaps half as broad. It is beautifully situ- 
ated, being surrounded by high hills. 

The eentleman from Leeds was a travelled man 
and very intelligent. Unlike many Britons, he 
was thoroughly informed on matters outside of his 
own affairs, city or country, and was familiar with 
our system of government, with politics in the 
United States, and with our public men. He was 



more like an American than like an Englishman. 
He was a jolly man, and a wit withal, and we 
owed it to him that our ride was so enjoyable. 
He talked to all of us, and his mirth was so con- 
tagious that many a merry laugh did we have 
during the famous ride. All were in the best of 
humor, and there was the freedom of old acquaint- 

The route lay by the valley of St. John and 
Thirlemere lake, over Dunmail Raise Pass, at a 
height of 720 feet. From the hill the village of 
Grasmere, with all its varied beauties, was spread 
out beneath us. At a point noted for its echoes, 
the driver gave a few blasts upon his bugle-horn, 
which awoke answering responses in the slumber- 
ing mountains. From this place was an easy 
descent to the village. 
Thirlemere lake is only 
a mile and a third in 
leneth, and a third of a 
mile in breadth, with an 
island in its centre. 

Grasmere won my 
heart. Such greenness, 
quietness, and beauty 
surround the village, 
lake, and encircling hills ! 
to the locality. 

William Wordsworth. 

Sweet memories cling 

" O vale and lake, within youv mountain well, 
Smiling so tranquilly and set so deep !" 

It has been immortalized by genius. 



Late in the year 1799, William Wordsworth, 
with his sister, took up his residence — which was 
to be lifelong — among the mountains and lakes of 
his native district, and setded at Grasmere, in a 
small cottage which overlooked the lake. This 
was his happy home for eight years, when he 
removed to Allan Bank, at the head of the lake, 
which was his abode for three years. In the 
spring of 18 13 he moved to Rydal Mount, two 
miles away, where he resided till his death, thirty- 
seven years later. 

From that litde cottage at Grasmere many of 
his poems went forth to the world. To it, in 
October, 1802, he brought, as his bride, from 
Penrith, the bright companion of his early life, 
Mary Hutchinson, — 

"A perfect woman, nobly planned 
To warn, to comfort, and command." 

For many years the most endearing relationship 
existed between him and his sister Dorothy, to 
whom he owed so much. His allusion to her is 
very touching: 

" She gave me eyes, she gave me ears, 
And humble cares and delicate fears, 
A heart, the fountain of sweet tears, 
And love, and thought, and joy." 

He was born at Cockermouth, county of Cum- 
berland, April 7, 1770; was made poet laureate 
on the death of his friend Robert Southey, in 
1843; and died at Rydal Mount, April 23, 1850, 
in his eighty-first year. 



Near the rude stone wall in the little church- 
yard at Grasmere, beneath the green sod and the 
shadowing trees, in close proximity to the mur- 
muring waters of a beautiful stream, with the lofty 
mountains about him in which he delighted, the 
poet laureate quietly sleeps. 

The cold, dark slate-colored stone above him is 
modest and unpretending. It is inscribed, "Will- 
iam Wordsworth, 1850," and underneath, "Mary 
Wordsworth, 1859." All the Wordsworth family 
lie in this yard, — his brother, his sister, his wife 
and children, and his sister-in-law, dear as a sister 
to him. 

In close proximity was the rude but dignified 

little church, dating 
back nearly, if not 
quite, to the time 
of the Conquest, 
and which had no 
floor, save the cold 
ground, till 1840. 
Here the poet wor- 
shipped, and the 
pew he occupied is 
an object of inter- 
est. The grave of 
Hartley Coleridge is in this same yard. 

Grasmere is continually thronged with tourists, 
most of whom visit the ancient church and sacred 

yard. Leaving this attractive place, we passed 

Grasmere Church. 


Rydal lake, less than a mile in length and a fourth 
in breadth, and the heights of Knab Scar on the 
left and Loughrigfell on the right, near Rydal 
Mount, which was Wordsworth's later home. The 
house is a modest mansion, of two stories, about 
which cling the ivy, the roses, and the Virginia 
creeper. It stands on the sloping side of a rocky 
hill, overlooking Lake Windermere and the Vale 
of Rothay. This house is not considered so pleas- 
ing as the poet's cottage at Grasmere, but both 
are visited by travellers almost innumerable. 

Ambleside is an irregular town of some 2,000 
people, situated on steeply inclined land. Here 
were offered for sale many views of the localities 
of the lake region. The town lies about one mile 
from Lake Windermere, is mostly surrounded by 
mountains, and is a place of many attractions. 
The home of the rare, gifted, strong-minded 
Harriet Martineau was shown to us. There was 
the "Dove's Nest" among the trees and ivy, 
the abode of the sweet and sad poet, Mrs. Hem- 
ans. Her life was a poem. She was one of 
"God's nightingales," and sang, — 

" Pressing her bosom upon a secret thorn." 

The whole route is infested with homes of lit- 
erary celebrities, and this fact gives the localities 
as much interest as their natural beauties, though 
they are very great. Passing along by the shore 
of Lake Windermere, its clear blue waters plainly 
in view, we reached Windermere. On the route 


we had seen the smallest cathedral in England, 
where the congregation numbers at most only 
twenty-two persons, and usually not over eight. 
Of course it is of the Established Church, and the 
manse is a very nice, comfortable stone house, 
where the clergyman resides. The value of his 
"livino-," besides the manse, was ^120 or $576 — 
a very comfortable income for doing little. This 
is an illustration of one of the abuses in Great 
Britain, — and there are many. 

Lake Windermere is eleven miles in length 
and one in breadth. A small steamer goes from 
point to point daily, and many skiffs are seen 
upon its blue waters. This closed my tour in the 
Lake Country, which was a continual pleasure, and 
retrospectively will be a source of gratification for- 
ever. The scenic beauties and historic attractions 
were a revelation to me, and are stamped upon my 
soul. In none of my ramblings have I had keener 
enjoyment. The houses covered with clinging ivy 
and surrounded with hedges, the green shade- 
trees, the large fields, the high hills, the singing 
brooks, and the quiet waters of the lakes, which 
reflect the great heaven of blue, hint but dimly of 
the charms of this fairest part of "dear old Eng- 
land." When the skies are fair, nowhere in the 
wide world are they bluer or brighter than in these 
retreats about the English lakes. Nowhere are 
the trees clothed with a denser foliage, or the 
grass greener, or the songs of birds sweeter, than 


amid these scenes of quietness, of peace, of 
beauty. At the railway station at Windermere, 
with expressions of mutual regrets, we mourned 
the departure of our Glasgow and London friends, 
previously mentioned, who had thrown such a halo 
of brightness around this portion of my journey, 
not to mention a like pleasure given to my aged 
friend from Leeds. May joy attend them ! 

We reached Kendall, and at Oxenholme, two 
miles distant, where the Kendall & Windermere 
Railway forms a junction with the Lancaster & 
Carlisle road, we changed coaches for Leeds. 

An amusing episode occurred on the way to 
Leeds, which will be noted. Englishmen have 
an extravagant view of the badness of American 
politics, and do not hesitate to express the opin- 
ion that they are utterly corrupt. They do not 
understand the manners of the American press, 
which are extravagant, and blazon to the world 
the most trivial events for business or partisan 
purposes. It is not so in England. Corruption 
and venality in government circles are covered up 
or hardly mentioned, save on special occasions, 
when some paper like the Pall Mall Gazette lifts 
the veil, and shows to the world the iniquity which 
exists among all classes of their people. Then 
the papers are obliged to notice these things, 
either by flat denial, or by acknowledgment of their 
truth. I deny that politics are any more corrupt 
here than there, or that their government is any 


purer than ours. Having grown restive from 
hearing my country criticized severely and repeat- 
edly, an opportunity occurred when I might have 
a little quiet enjoyment at the expense of my 
English friends. In the daily Times was a notice 
of a Baptist clergyman who for some misdemeanor 
had been arrested and taken into "durance vile." 
Turning to my friend from Leeds, I sportively 
called his attention to this item, and remarked 
that I was surprised and pained at the evidences 
of corruption everywhere apparent in the British 
body politic, as shown in their daily press ; and 
that this was so extensive, infesting all classes, 
that even their clergymen could not always be 
trusted ! It so happened that a young clergyman 
of the Established Church was an occupant of the 
car, and heard the remark. He broke in by say- 
ing, — "I beg pawdon,but he was not a clergyman ; 
he was nothing but a Baptist preacher." "Do jou 
not recognize any as clergymen, except those of 
the Established Church?" "Not any." " Do you 
not recognize Spurgeon, Dr. Parker, and others 
who are among the brightest lights in the church, 
as co-laborers with you in proclaiming the truth?" 
"No, I recognize them only as members of a polit- 
ical clique ; and Mr. Spurgeon was not an Oxford 
graduate, — not a man of culture. He [Spurgeon] 
himself did not claim to be. I can readily see 
how this will appear to you as an American." The 
gentleman from Leeds, who was a Wesleyan, and 


did not love the Established Church, said, — "Is it 
not possible that a man may have ability and cult- 
ure even though he be not a graduate of Oxford ? 
I have known four of your men of culture, of your 
Oxford graduates, ministers of the Established 
Church, in my own parish : two of them were 
nothing but dog-fanciers, and four bigger donkeys 
I never met." Quietly withdrawing from the dis- 
cussion, I listened with much amusement to the 
two Englishmen. Each was sharp, combative, and 
intelligent. The gentleman from Leeds had a 
broad mind, with broad views, and expressed him- 
self W'ith great force, fluency, and keenness. The 
clergyman was finely educated, very keen, very 
narrow, and a bigot. When the wordy discussion 
died away, — 

" silence, like a poultice, came 

To heal the blows of sound." 

After the departure of the clergyman, the gentle- 
man from Leeds said, — "I have no love for the 
Established Church, but, as an Englishman and a 
friend of justice, I do not wish you, an American, 
to think for a moment that this clergyman was a 
fair representative of the order. He is not ; for 
in truth a more bigoted member of the Church I 
never met." My acquaintances now had subjects 
to reflect upon in their own localities, and griev- 
ances for them to redress nearer home than 
America. A few hours' ride through a rich and 
well cultivated country brought us to Leeds, where 


my friend left me, but whom I subsequently met 
by chance In Liverpool several weeks later, on the 
eve of my departure for America. 

Leeds, with a population of less than 300,000, 
is the largest city in the county of York, and is 
the fifth town in England in point of business and 
commercial activity. A few hours only were spent 
in the place. Its new town hall is one of great 
elegance and solidity, and well repays a visit. 
From Leeds I went to the old city of York, where 
I spent the Sabbath. This visit was greatly en- 
joyed, for the city is a very ancient one, and has 
much to interest and instruct the visitor. Founded, 
according to some, nearly a thousand years before 
the Christian era, yet little is known of its history 
until the advent of the Romans. It was a great 
Roman station, and many Roman ruins are still 
extant. It is a walled town, and the greater part 
still stands, and is kept in good order. It is an 
enjoyable walk of some three miles to follow the 
walls about the city, and many pleasant views of 
the city and the outside country can be obtained 
from them. Like Londonderry and Chester, the 
city has extended greatly beyond the walls. 

The river Ouse flows through the city. At 10 
A. M. the chimes of York cathedral, which is one 
of the most beautiful churches in England, sent 
forth their glad notes, calling worshippers to 
its sacred precincts. The cathedral is 524 feet in 
length, 222 feet wide, and 99 feet high, and was 


founded in the year 626. It is a wonderful build- 
ing-, externally and internally. Being built of light 
sandstone, exposure to the weather causes thin 
flakes to peel off continually, which destroys much 
of its external beauty. The number of ghouls, 
devils, and men's heads stuck in every conceiva- 
ble cornice, is enormous. Many have been de- 
faced by time, — a nose gone, or a part of the head 
itself destroyed, — but the general effect when not 
closely examined is not much injured. The open 
grounds about it add greatly to its attractiveness. 
The services were those of the Established Epis- 
copal Church, which were interesting. 

"The music, too — dear music, that can touch 
Beyond all else the soul that loves it much," 

I have never heard surpassed. It was furnished 
by a choir of boys in robes, who marched as they 
sane. Now the chant was sweet and stronsf, then 
soft and low as they receded in the distance and 
filed through the different parts of the great build- 
ing, and the tones of exceeding sweetness were 
those of a far-off song. As they came nearer, that 
refrain echoed through the high arches, and louder 
were the notes of praise. As they came in view, 
and marched into the worshipping hall, the chant 
burst into a grand, triumphant song, making the 
cathedral ring with the sweetest, strongest, most 
joyful strains of praise ! 

I visited the old Abbey of St. Mary, now in 
ruins, and the Museum of Antiquities. There 


were numerous coffins of stone, sorne with their 
stone covers removed, and some with the Hds 
still covering them. These were remnants of 
the Roman period, and in them had been interred 
the bodies of distinguished Romans. There were 
the walls of an old tower built by the Romans, 
where the masonry was as perfect as when com- 
pleted, some 1,800 years ago. The thin, wide 
bricks of Roman manufacture were distinctly visi- 
ble. I wandered over the quaint old city, through 
some of its very, very narrow streets, which seemed 
so peculiar. The whole town has a strange, 
foreiofn look, with its houses with red tile roofs. 

The following morning I called upon a relative 
who was living in York, to whom my advent was 
a great surprise and a mutual pleasure. Being 
impatient for American news, which awaited me 
in London, I took the lo o'clock a. m. train for 
that city, one hundred and ninety miles away. 
The day was perfect: the country was never 
greener, nor the trees lovelier. The ride was 
enjoyable. In the afternoon I arrived at King's 
Cross, and taking a cab was driven across the city 
to Whitfield's hotel, 7 Beaufort buildings, Strand, 
W. C, which was my London home. The large 
mail which awaited me gave me the greatest 
pleasure, for 1 was famishing for American news. 
My life in the metropolis of the world now com- 
menced, and the time spent there is an oasis in 
my busy life. 



ONDON is the largest city in the world. 
Four millions of human beings dwell there. 
It is the place of which all have read, and which all 
desire to see, — the place of power, wealth, influ- 
ence. All peoples flock to it as the rivers flow to 
the sea. It is solid, substantial ; it is, as a whole, 
beautiful. I love London, for it seems home- 
like, — one can find his way about so easily. Each 
street is historic ; — and when an American rambles 
through the Strand to Trafalgar square, through 
Pall Mall with its famous clubs, through Piccadilly, 
and through other noted streets of this famous 
city; or when at the Parliament Houses, Westmin- 
ster abbey, and the Tower, on the Embankment, 
or sailine the Thames in whose waters a thousand 
twinkling lamps are reflected, — it does not seem 
like a foreign country, far from the land of his na- 
tivity, but rather like going up to the ancient 
home, where he can see and commune with the 
great personages of history, and look over places 
of which all the world has read. There is so 
much to see, so much to admire, that one could 



Spend months in roaming. This city, with its 
fifteen hundred miles of streets, with sewers two 
thousand miles in extent, with four hundred and 
eiehteen thousand inhabited houses which belch 
forth smoke continually, I have heard stigmatized 
as smoky, dark, foggy, and generally disagree- 
able. It did not seem so to me, save on one very 
rainy day. London had bright skies for me, was 
a kind hostess, and I will speak well of her. 

My location during my two visits to the city 
was at a comfortable family hotel just off the 
Strand, a few rods from Exeter Hall, and directly 
opposite the Savoy theatre. One of my first ad- 
ventures was a visit to Charing Cross, a central 
locality, and a point from which it is easy to start 
in many directions. This locality derives its name 
from the fact that here Edward I erected a cross 
I (1291-94) in memory of his wife. At this 
point in Trafalgar square, named in honor 
of Lord Nelson's great victory at Trafalgar, 
is a monument one hundred and forty-five 
feet in height, surmounted by a statue of 
the distinguished admiral. Going toward 
the Parliament Houses, one passes Scot- 
land Yard, now the head-quarters of the 
Metropolitan police. The poet Milton 
lodged in apartments here when secretary 
for Cromwell. Here it was that the dynamiters 
made the place famous through all the world by 
exploding dynamite, and causing great damage, 


doing it beneath the very gaze, almost, of the 
poHce, and going undetected. On visiting the 
spot, I observed that a corner wall of a building 
was torn out, windows were broken, and all things 
were shattered in every conceivable manner. Op- 
posite is the Admiralty, and one passes through 
Whitehall to Parliament street and Parliament 

It was at Whitehall that the weak, bigoted, 
treacherous King Charles I suffered the penalty 
of the law for his crimes against the British people. 
That act had the effect of awakening a little com- 
mon-sense in the minds of the royal family, and it 
has had a wholesome influence ever since. Crom- 
well, he of the fearless heart and iron hand, was 
at the head of the Commonwealth. It was re- 
freshing to have a man of brains, resolute and 
brave, at the helm of government after the weak- 
ness and vacillation of Charles I. 

Thought was busy when I approached the Par- 
liament buildinofs. England has no reason to 
love the Stuarts. After the Restoration, and 
when Charles II was secure upon his throne, the 
head of Cromwell was nailed up over the entrance 
to Westminster Hall, A member of parliament 
pointed out the spot to me. Westminster abbey, 
the grandest burial-place in all history, was at 
hand. Then there was the Embankment on the 
Thames, which extends to Blackfriar's bridge. 
This is land reclaimed from the river, varying 


from 200 to 450 feet in width, and makes about 
thirty acres. A soHd granite wall, very thick and 
high, runs along the river's edge. On the Em- 
bankment is a road more than six rods wide, 
while shade-trees line all the way; and at sections 
there are small parks, with trees and lawns and 
beds of rare flowers. This is one of the most 
delightful promenades in London. Charming it 
was in moonlit evenings to wander over it, and 
look at the waters of the Thames, which reflected 
the torches of the sky and streets, and, when the 
evening was dark, to see the glittering lights of 
London town from either side reproduce them- 
selves in the flowing stream. Very attractive are 

" Those gleaming, flashing lights that grace the city's crown. 
What fortunes lie within you, O lights of London town ! " 

Beneath the Embankment is an underground 
railway, besides a tunnel which is a great sewer, 
and another which contains gas pipes, telegraph 
wires, and water pipes. When one has ridden on 
the underground railways from one side of the 
city to the other, and beneath the Thames, it 
seems as though the great city was completely 
honeycombed with one thing or another. There 
was the Egyptian obelisk, called Cleopatra's 
Needle, overlooking the Thames. It is seventy 
feet in height, and was removed from the sand at 
Alexandria, Egypt, to London in 1878. It is a 
much finer monument than the one in Central 


Park, New York, but not so elegant as the one in 
Paris. It is a rare and imposing memento of a 
former age, and of a civilization differing from 
ours. It was distinctly in view, and only a short 
distance from the windows of my hotel. This was 
my first ramble about London. The hotel at 
Beaufort buildings occupies the site of the Wor- 
cester House, owned by the Marquis of Worces- 
ter. Here, in September, 1662, was married the 
Duke of York, afterwards James II, to Anne 
Hyde, daughter of the Earl of Clarendon. Exe- 
ter Hall was only a few rods distant, where is 
the Young Men's Christian Association. Here, 
also, is something very rare in Great Britain, and 
which deserves proclaiming throughout the length 
and breadth of the earth : it is a restaurant 
where the attendants are strictly prohibited from 
taking "tips," and every American visiting Lon- 
don should patronize it. 

It was my privilege, when in Edinburgh, to see 
and hear that remarkable American woman as well 
as actress, Mary Anderson. Her face is beautiful, 
as pure and spirituelle as could be wrought in 
marble. It was a continual delight to listen to her. 
At Glasgow I listened to the distinguished Italian, 
Salvini. It is rank heresy, and shows a lack of 
culture, not to admire him and his acting; still, 
neither pleased me. His face, "the mirror of the 
soul," did not attract, and his manner was too 
florid, too intense, and much overdone. In Lon- 


don, Henry Irving and Ellen Terry were listened 
to with delio-ht, in "Much Ado About Nothing." 
Attending the Savoy theatre was not an unpleas- 
ant recreation. A gentleman from Alabama was 
my companion at the Drury Lane theatre, which 
is the oldest in London. The first theatre on this 
spot was opened in 1633. The most celebrated 
English actors of the last two and a half centuries 
have appeared here, and the most noted persons 
have been auditors. Here, in 1666, was Nell 
Gwynne. Later came Booth, Mrs. Siddons, and 
Edmund Kean ; and here, in 185 i, Macready bade 
adieu to the stage. The entertainment, at the 
time of my visit, was not interesting to me. A 
colored troupe — in appearance — was the attrac- 
tion, but I do not think English Africans a suc- 
cess! Only the historic associations connected 
with the locality afforded me pleasure. 

Within easy distance was Covent Garden, which 
I visited many times. No tourist has seen Lon- 
don who has not visited this place. It is of great 
interest and celebrity. The derivation of the name 
is from the Convent Garden of Westminster, that 
once occupied this site and the adjacent locality. 
Covent Garden market-house was erected in 1830, 
and supplies half of London with vegetables and 
flowers. The choicest and rarest are there for 
sale. It is a unique sight to pass through this 
place and see the donkey carts and the litde carts 
of small traders filled with produce, or waiting to be 


filled. All is bustle and confusion. But this spot, 
celebrated as it is, in itself is no more attractive 
than markets in Boston and New York. 

The American in London will always visit the 
American Exchange, where most of our country- 
men go and register their names, meet other 
Americans, and read the American papers, with 
which the reading-room is filled. There I had 
the pleasure of meeting ex-Gov. Noyes of Ohio, 
formerly minister to France, and ex-Sec. Windom 
of Minnesota, member of President Garfield's cab- 
inet. I also met Mr. Henry F. Waters of Salem, 
Mass., who is doing such valuable work, in a his- 
torical line, for New England. He is the agent 
of the New England Historic Genealogical So- 
ciety; and at Somerset' House, among the wills 
of two centuries or so ago, he is gleaning a rich 
harvest of historical and genealogical matters re- 
lating to the early settlers of New England, and 
to their early homes, and relatives whom they left 
in England. This work is above money value, 
and Mr. Waters, from his long study of the history 
and names of the families who first settled in New 
England, is admirably adapted for this special 
work. The wills and records are written in the 
old "court hand," with contractions, in English 
and Latin, and are very elegant, but an amateur 
can do but little in deciphering them. One must 
make a study of it, and learn to read this writing, 
before success will crown his efforts in getting 


information. Mr. Waters is doing his work so 
well that he should be kept at his post by the 

Somerset House, on the Strand, stands on the 
site of an old palace built by the Lord Protector 
Somerset. There dwelt the wives of Kings James 
I, Charles I, and his son Charles II. The present 
building was finished in 1786, except one wing 
which was completed in 1852. An archway is 
the entrance from the Strand. Fronting the 
Thames, the building is elegant, having a facing of 
800 feet in length, and ornamented with numer- 
ous columns, making it one of the finest buildings 
in London. It is in the form of a quadrangle, 
and is filled with government offices. Among 
them is the office of wills and probate. The Cal- 
endars can be searched for one shilling (twenty- 
five cents). The originals can be seen for one 
shilling. Immense books, with heavy clasps, are 
made by putting great numbers of these old docu- 
ments together. It is a curiosity to look over 
these old records so long after the busy brain 
which directed them has become quiet, and the 
hand which wrote them has gone back to dust. 

James A. D. Camp, Esq., of London, a legal 
gentleman, attended me at Somerset House in 
some investigations, and showed me many cour- 

Onjs of my most delightful rambles in London 

was to Kew Gardens and Richmond Hill. My 


companion was an English gentleman, whose 
acquaintance was made in Glasgow. We took 
boat on the Thames, and passed on the river 
some ten miles to Kew Gardens. The ride on 
the river was exhilarating and grand. The 
Thames flowed like a belt of silver beneath the 
bright skies of that day, through fertile lands : 
great trees with dense foliage are upon its banks. 
It was a relief, a delight, to get out of London, 
with its hurrying crowds and blackened walls of 
great buildings, on to the shimmering water, and 
into the sweet breezes and pure air of the country. 
The river was covered with different kinds of 
crafts, and as we receded from the dense part of 
London, we came upon multitudes of sporting 
boats, long, slender, light shells with a single 
rower, and others with a full boat's crew. It was 
a beautiful sight to watch them, as with the vigor- 
ous strokes of the oarsmen, given with the preci- 
sion of machinery, the boat skimmed over the 
unresisting waters, and was skilfully guided by 
the cockswain through the multitude of boats on 
the river. We were at Kew Gardens at last, and 
what a place of luxuriant beauty ! They comprise 
270 acres, laid out with artistic taste, and culti- 
vated with all the skill which science can bring. 
The hot-houses are marvels of excellence, and 
contain the most perfect collections in the world 
of tropical trees and rare and beautiful plants, all 
of which grow luxuriantly. Palm-trees are there 


which grow to the glass roof, sixty-four feet in 
height ; also the banana, the cocoanut, the clove, 
and other rare trees of the tropics. The grounds 
are all that could be desired in way of beauty. 
It is with unalloyed pleasure that one wanders 
over them, drinking in their many charms. The 
distance to Richmond Hill is not quite two miles. 
Thither we went. It was named by Henry V^II, 
after himself, who was once Earl of Richmond. 
It is situated on the Thames. Here died Oueen 
Elizabeth. I was wholly unprepared for the 
scene of loveliness which greeted my eyes. The 
view from Richmond Hill is divinely fair. One's 
eyes sweep over forests, meadows, fields ; the 
winding Thames, flowing along through verdant 
lowlands, reflecting in its lovely bosom the deep 
blue of the arching sky ; the trees, so heavily foli- 
aged, so grand, so beautiful, as one stands on 
a higher elevation than they, and looks down 
upon their luxuriant forms beneath ; and in the 
distance, — 

" O vale of bliss ! O softly swelling hills !" 

Richmond is not a really commercial city, but 
is rather a city of homes. Many of the proprie- 
tors of its elegant establishments do business in 
London, but live here. Its population is 100,000. 
In earlier days the place was called West Sheen, 
but the old palace of royalty has almost entirely 
disappeared. " The Star and Garter," where, in 
other centuries the members of the royal family 


banqueted, is still there. This famous hotel com- 
mands the view already described, which is one 
of the finest in England. Richmond Park, the 
nearest, is large and beautiful. Richmond Hill will 
be a bright place in my memory. The sun was 
sinking to rest when we departed, casting a mel- 
low light over the winding river, the leafy trees, 
the verdant meadows, and the distant hills, bath- 
ing all, crowning all, with the glory of departing 
day. The scene, so quiet, so peaceful, so lovely, 
is ineffaceably stamped upon my mind. 

Returning by rail, we were ushered into Lon- 
don in the evening, and soon were upon the 
Strand, amidst its motley, hurrying crowds, and in 
the roar and rush of the great city. The famous 
National Gallery of pictures was often visited. 
One can spend hours, days, or weeks in their 
pleasant inspection. In passing through Pall 
Mall, one sees magnificent edifices which line the 
street. Here are the most noted clubs in the 
world, in one of the best known streets in Chris- 

St. James's park covers over ninety acres of 
ground. I entered "The Mall," with its lovely 
walks and groves, which extends a half mile to 
Buckingham palace. This was the play-ground 
of Charles II and his friends. At the left was a 
little lake with its spanning bridge which connects 
the Mall with Westminster. This was all historic 
ground. I passed in the rear of Marlborough 


House, the home of the Prince of Wales ; then 
St. James's palace, where Charles II was born, 
and where Charles I lived, and where he slept the 
night before his execution. On January 30, 1649, 
he walked over this very ground, between a file 
of soldiers, to his execution at Whitehall. Like 
any other criminal, he was tried before a high tri- 
bunal, found guilty, and executed. Passing out 
of the groves, one comes to the front entrance of 
the court-yard of Buckingham palace. When the 
sentinel informed me that "none but royalty were 
permitted to enter" there, I sought for a ticket of 
admission to the queen's stables. The directions 
request visitors not to give fees to the servants, 
which were obeyed by me to the very letter ; but 
the disappointed look of the man in charge really 
awakened my sympathy. 

I visited Westminster abbey, which stands upon 
the site of a temple dedicated to Apollo. In 610 
Kino- Sebert founded the first Christian church, 
still known as the Collegiate Church of St. Peter. 
The abbey is 416 feet in length, 200 feet in width, 
and 10 1 feet in height, and the height of the tow- 
ers is 225 feet. After running the gauntlet of 
guide-book sellers, and having the usual sixpence 
abstracted from me, the same as has been the ex- 
perience of all other travellers before me, and will 
be to all after me till the nuisance is abated, I 
entered the main entrance of the abbey. This is 
managed on business principles, and one pays as 


he goes. A very red-faced man, who looks and 
acts Hke a man grown old as a bar-tender and 
patron, acts as escort. He is called a verger. 
At the gate of a chapel a sixpence more is de- 
manded, when his brother verger admits you and 
your companions, and locks the gate. Visitors 
usually go in crowds of from twenty to thirty, and 
he acts as guide, — passes from point to point, 
from tomb to tomb, and explains who is buried in 
them or beneath them. 

A wonderful place is this abbey, for here sleep 
the mighty dead of Great Britain. Here rest 
together more illustrious ones than in any other 
place upon the planet. One writer aptly says that 
it is singular that no bad men were ever buried 
here, for, judging by the inscriptions on the mem- 
orial stones, they were " very good." As one 
moves about among the tombs of the illustrious 
dead, the influence of the long ago comes power- 
fully over him. He is in the silent presence of 
those who made centuries of British history. He 
communes with the long gone past — a past where 
was much of wrong, but also much of good. Sad, 
sweet, tender, loving memories flood one's soul 
as he moves from spot to spot in this grandest 
burial-place on earth ! 

Wandering about, at last one becomes wearied 
and bewildered with the innumerable tablets, busts, 
statues recumbent, erect, or kneeling, found in all 
parts of Westminster abbey, in transept, in nave, 



in aisle. In very many cases they were erected to 
persons whose notoriety is no more lasting than 
these monuments, their reputation was local only, 
and to others whose fame is wide as the world 
and as lasting as time. 

We passed into the magnificent chapel of 
Henr}^ VII, erected 1502, and called, from its 
wondrous beauty, " the miracle of the world." 
Its decorations are wonder- 
ful, and nowhere in Eng- 
land is there a choicer spot 
for monumental stone to be 
placed than here. In the 
centre is the tomb of Henry 
VII and his queen. On one 
side is that of the haughty 
Elizabeth, with her recum- 
bent statue, with the nose 
very much softened down 
from the sharp and high proportions of the orig- 
inal, as shown in the usual engravings. On the 

opposite side is buried her 
cousin and victim, the un- 
fortunate Mary Queen of 
Scots, with her recumbent 
statue of white marble a 
beautiful representation of 
her personal charms. Many 
Coronation Chair. Other monarchs are here. 
The coronation chair, always used when a sover- 

7~" westminsteh Aooe 


eign is crowned, contains the famous stone of 
Scone, on which the kings of Scotland were 
crowned. It is 11 inches thick. 26 inches long, 
and 16! inches broad, and is of red white sand- 
stone. It was once in the Abbey of Scone, Scot- 
land, and was carried to England by Edward I 
when he claimed to have subdued the kingdom. 
I saw the resting-place of that great man, Dean 
Stanley. They keep his memory green, and the 
pavement above him was ornamented with a 
wreath of fresh, beautiful flowers. 

rlere slept L-rom- f eppj^Y or rvRnY,QUE£Ni °r scq^ 'a 
well the Protect- ^~7Z fV ^,^-^^iw 
or, and England's ^^?^^^§^?^^^^^^ 
greatest man. The ^2^Hi^^^^^^^^^^^^^^3 

an inscription on the pavement informs the vis- 
itor that he was buried there. After Cromwell's 
death his body was embalmed, laid in state for 
a time, and was subsequently interred with the 
most distinguished honors in this grandest place 
in the abbey, where for some three years it rest- 
ed in peace. Twelve months after Charles II had 
returned to the throne, by a vote of the House 
of Commons the body of The Protector was 
taken from its resting-place, carted to the Red 
Lion inn, in Holborn, where it remained a night. 



The following day it was taken to Tyburn gal- 
lows, where criminals were executed ; and on the 
1 2th anniversary of the execution of Charles I the 
dead body of Cromwell was hanged, and remained 
from sunrise to sunset, then taken down and be- 
headed, the body buried beneath the gallows, and 

Oliver Cromwki.l. 

his head, with a spike driven through it and affix- 
ed to a handle of oak, was fastened upon the 
exterior of Westminster Hall, beneath whose gor- 
geous roof he had sat in judgment upon Charles I. 
The fierce winds and beating storms for twenty 
years smote the dead face of Cromwell, while the 
" merry monarch" and his corrupt court revelled 
beneath it. During a tempestuous night the 



oaken shaft was broken, and the head fell to the 
ground. In the morning the sentry found it, who 
retained it till his death. It passed through sev- 
eral hands, and was, in 1884, in the possession 
of Mr. Horace Wilkinson, of Sevenoaks, some 
twenty miles from London. Hair is upon the 
head and face, with the mark of the wart over the 
right eye. The spike is rusted into the skull. 

England has never recognized publicly Crom- 
well's greatness, because he was a plebeian. Stat- 
ues of royal poltroons and royal simpletons meet 
one everywhere, but the name of her greatest son 
has not been honored, his virtues have not been 
recognized. His great abilities, his marvellous 
achievements, the influential position he gave 
England before the world, and the fear which his 
name inspired among the rulers of mankind, have 
not been given prominence by the government of 
Great Britain. The reason is easily found. Roy- 
alty does not like the memory of a man who exe- 
cuted one of its guilty, sinful members. 

To show the change in public opinion, and the 
liberalizing influence operating upon the English 
government, the plan is now agitated of erecting 
a monument to him in the open yard fronting 
Westminster Hall, which will sometime be done. 
It is a singular fact, that probably in all Great 
Britain there is not a monument erected to his 
memory. One cannot love the memory of many 
of the rulers buried there. 


It was a very great pleasure to turn from this 
portion of the abbey to the " Poet's Corner," 
and to be surrounded by memorials of those 
who are Qfreatest in the world of letters and 
in the affections of the race. There was the 
place where the illustrious dramatist was buried, 
in a standing position, with his head, it is 
said, less than a foot beneath the pavement, 
while above is the laconic inscription, "O rare 
Ben Jonson." Among memorials of the great- 
est men who ever lived a statue had just been 
placed of our own classic and beloved Longfel- 
low, for whom Britons have unbounded reeard, 
greater than for Tennyson. Probably more cop- 
ies of his poems will be found in British homes 
than of any other poet. It may be well that his 
statue is there; but is there not great danger that 
one half of the English people, with their igno- 
rance of America and Americans, will think that 
Longfellow was an Englishman ? 

In the south aisle of the nave are memorials 
of Sir Isaac Newton, the Wesleys, Isaac Watts, 
Wordsworth, Canon Kingsley, and Major Andre. 
Going to the tomb of the latter, around which 
were many visitors, presumably Americans, I 
copied the inscription : 


" Who, raised by merit at an early period of Life to the rank of Adjutant- 
General of the iJritish Forces in America, and employed in an im- 
portant but hazardous Enterprise, fell a Sacrifice to his Zeal for his 


King and Country on the 2d of October, A. D. 1780, Aged 29, uni- 
versally Beloved and esteemed by the Army in which he served, and 
lamented even by his Foes. His gracious Sovereign, King George 
the Third, has caused this monument to be erected. 
"The remains of Major John Andre were on the loth of August, 1821, 
removed from Tappan, New York, by James Buchanan, Esq., His 
Majesty's Consul at New York, under instructions of His Royal 
Highness the Duke of York, and with the permission of the Dean 
and Chapter finally deposited in a grave contiguous to this monu- 
ment, on the 2Sth of November, 182 1." 

Such is the inscription on the tablet to the 
gallant but unfortunate young officer whose 
unhappy fate Americans commiserate, but whose 
success in that " important but hazardous enter- 
prise " might have prevented the achievement of 
American independence, and doomed to death as 
rebels those whom Americans now greatly honor 
as Revolutionary heroes, and the fathers and 
founders of our liberties and of the United States 

I attended religious services twice in the abbey. 
Once upon a clear, sunny Sabbath, when the place 
was filled to its utmost capacity with its rich and 
titled worshippers, the elite of London, and with 
strangers. The hours spent there were hours of 
profit. England prizes above value Westminster 
abbey, and well she may. As descendants of those 
who helped make British history and Britain what 
they are, Americans can claim a share in this 
glorious inheritance. They who sleep their last 
sleep there are of our own race as well as theirs, 
and we can share all these honors with our 
cousins across the sea. 


Upon a clear Sabbath morning I went along 
the Strand and crossed the Thames by Waterloo 
bridge and along Waterloo road to Newington, 
to see and hear Rev. C. H. Spurgeon. The 
Metropolitan Tabernacle, where he preaches, is a 
large, fine building, and will seat from seven to 
ten thousand people. Arriving early, many peo- 
ple were waiting for the door to be opened, when 
the waiting throngs quickly entered, and quickly 
filled the Tabernacle. By good fortune I was 
shown to a seat very near Mr. Spurgeon, where 
there was an admirable opportunity to scan his 
face, note his manners, and study the man, as 
well as to hear his sermon. He entered the 
church in a bustling, business-like way, like one 
who had important aftairs to attend to. The 
prayer he offered was short and earnest. He then 
read, and joined the immense congregation in 
singing a hymn, the music being led by the con- 
ductor, who stood at his side. No instrumental 
music is used. V'^ery inspiring was the great vol- 
ume of song as it came, now low, then loud and 
strong, from the blended voices of the great com- 

His elders sat near him, and the whole organ- 
ization of the church seemed not at all for show 
or pretence, but for solid, hard, substantial work; 
and this is one secret of his success. His every 
action shows him to be a good manager, and he 
has about him an able corps of assistants, in full 


harmony with him. In his earnestness and zeal 
he reminded me of Moody. His manner of speak- 
ing was very vigorous and positive, not smooth, 
poHshed, or cukivated. When hearing him one 
would not think of a strong river, flowing smooth- 
ly through rich meadows, but rather of the river 
rushing and tumbling down over rocky mountain- 
sides. He accepts the Bible as the inspired word 
of God in all particulars, even to the punctuation 
points. He believes fully, heartily, and utterly all 
he preaches, and earnestly strives to make others 
believe the same. His manners are not so pleas- 
ing as those of many preachers. It is difficult to 
detect any superiority in his sermons to those of 
many less noted preachers in England or the 
United States. He is doing a great work, and 
every true-hearted person wishes him long life 
and great success. 

It was my privilege to listen to Rev. Dr. Parker, 
of London. One of his peculiarities is, that at 
the conclusion of a prayer he waits quite a notice- 
able length of time before saying "Amen." He 
is an able preacher. His sermon was not re- 
markable, and he did not impress me as being 

The iron-clad rules and inflexible regulations 
of everything of a governmental nature are fitly 
illustrated by this incident: Having made an en- 
gagement to visit a family a few miles away, I 
was to take the train at Charing Cross. I arrived 


in abundance of time, and upon reaching the 
gate through which passengers pass to the train 
it was closed by the pohceman in charge, and 
though the train did not leave for several min- 
utes, and he knew I was very desirous to go 
then, he would not permit me to pass, and com- 
pelled me to wait for another train. Everything 
is on this principle. Law is law, and it must be 
obeyed ; there is no elasticity to anything British. 
Sometimes an American almost wishes for some 
great awakening w^hich would introduce some pli- 
ability and common-sense into their government 

Passing by the stalls upon the street one day, 
I saw a large tub nearly full of curious creatures, 
fed, like lobsters, but which looked like grasshop- 
pers. The aged market-woman thought it was 
an imposition upon her when, in my ignorance, I 
inquired what they were. Being invited one 
evening to a private dinner party at the Euston 
hotel, among the curious dishes in one of the 
courses offered for my entertainment were these 
peculiar creatures just mentioned; but I found 
that shrimps were very crisp and very palatable. 

Among the brightest and most enjoyable days 
in London were those spent in the British Mu- 
seum. Upon the presentation of a letter from 
the New Hampshire Historical Society, I was 
shown all desired courtesies, and had a pleas- 
ant interview with the chief librarian. Received 


a reader's ticket, which gave me access to the 
reading-room for six months. The British Mu- 
seum is a magnificent collection of innumerable 
curiosities and valuable articles. Its library is the 
second in size in the world, and only surpassed 
by the one in Paris. It contains 1,500,000 books, 
and 50,000 Mss. The catalogue, as it exists in 
MSS. volumes, is awkward, cumbersome, and bad- 
ly arranged. A printed one is being prepared, 
and will be invaluable. Seventy volumes and 
more are in print. In a decade the work will 
be completed, as thirty volumes a year are fin- 

The use of the reading-room is restricted to 
persons for study and research. In order to have 
a ticket, one must apply to the librarian and bring 
good testimonials. I was in this room several 
days, and was interested to see the great number 
making use of the library. One of my pleasant 
surprises there was in meeting a lady of my own 
name from Boston, with whose family I was ac- 
quainted. Our countrymen, Henry Stevens* & 
Son, furnish the library usually with American 
publications. It afforded me pleasure to meet 
Mr. Stevens at his place of business, 115 St. Mar- 
tin's Lane, Charing Cross. 

One could spend his life in study in the mu- 
seum. The sculptures from Nineveh, found in 
the Assyrian galleries, engage one's attention 

* Mr. Stevens died recently. 


closely. Carvings of battle scenes of the Nin- 
evites, the dogs with collars, the deer feeding, 
the dejected appearance of captives taken, and 
the spoils of war, are all delineated with graphic 
power. These figures are covered with historical 
carvings in strange characters. 

From Babylon were the title-deeds to property, 
not written upon paper or parchment, but ele- 
gantly carved in stone of various lengths, from 
four inches in length by two in breadth to those 
of considerable size. In the Egyptian depart- 
ment were colossal sculptures from Egypt of 
many kinds, and well preserved. There is the 
huge stone statue of Rameses II, the Pharaoh of 
Israelitish times. Stone coffins were there. On 
the w^alls of one staircase were the written doc- 
uments of the Egyptians, which are on rolls made 
of the papyrus. In another room was pointed 
out a blue box in which were the reputed bones 
of one of the Pharaohs. Other rooms were filled 
with rare old books and old bindings; while in 
still another were many artists, ladies and gentle- 
men, making models in clay of nude figures, and 
copying from celebrated statues. 

Time was flying ; other places must be seen, 
and among them was St. Paul's cathedral. Going 
from the Strand, with its hustling crowds, through 
Fleet street, we soon reached the church. Though 
it is one of the most prominent features of Lon- 
don, this edifice is the third church upon the site 


dedicated to St. Paul. In 6io the first was 
erected, and was burned in 1087. The second 
was destroyed in the great London fire, 1666, and 
the first stone of this building was laid June 21, 
1675, and completed in 17 10. On the tomb of 
the architect, Sir Christopher Wren, were these 
words: "Reader, if thou seekest his monument, 
look around." 

The building is too great to be described here 
in detail. It fronts Ludgate Hill. Its length is 
550 feet, width 125 and 180 feet, and height 
to the top of the cross 370 feet. There are two 
towers 222 feet high. All portions of the build- 
ing were visited. From the top is an excellent 
view of London, or what one can see of it. For 
many miles little can be seen except the roofs 
of buildings, with an occasional glimpse of a green 
court-yard and its shady trees, with the winding 
Thames and its numerous bridges. Many of Eng- 
land's heroes are sleeping here. A monument to 
Major General Robert Ross, who burned the cap- 
itol city of Washington, with many of the public 
archives, in the War of 181 2-' 15, is here. It was 
an act of vandalism unworthy of any civilized 
commander, the same as it would be if by the 
chances of war London should fall into the hands 
of an enemy which should burn the houses of 
parliament, Westminster abbey, and St. Paul's 
cathedral, with their priceless treasures. To the 
credit of the British nation, this act was never 


approved by them, though the following inscrip- 
tion would seem to indicate the contrary: 

" Erected at the public expense to the memory of 
Major General Rov.ert Ross, 
Who having undertaken and executed an enterprise 
against the city of Washington, the capital of 
the United States of America, 
which was crowned with complete success, 
he was killed shortly afterwards while directing a success- 
ful attack upon a superior force, near the city of 
Baltimore, on the 12th day of September, 1814." 

There is a monument to Lord Cornwallis, 
while near it is one to Lord Nelson, the peerless 
naval commander ; and not far distant, sculptured 
in full uniform, are Generals Packenham and 
Gibbs, who fell in the attack upon the American 
works at New Orleans, January 8, 1815. Another 
is to Sir Isaac Brock, who died October 13, 18 12, 
in resisting an attack of American troops on 
Queenstown, Upper Canada. Sir John Moore, 
who, the poet says, was "buried at dead of 
night," but who was not, is also remembered fit- 
tingly here. Wellington, as well as Nelson, rests 
here, and has a magnificent memorial. His body 
was placed in a pine coffin, this in a lead one of 
unusual thickness and strength, and the latter 
encased in a handsomely finished one of English 
oak. The case is of solid Spanish mahogany. 

Not only are the illustrious ones who contrib- 
uted to England's glory in the field or on the 
wave inurned or remembered, but also her brilliant 
sons who have won fame in more honored fields. 



Here is a monument to John Howard, the philan- 
thropist, whom the world honors, and which pays 
him a debt of admiration and gratitude. Dr. Sam- 
uel Johnson is remembered by a statue. Here 
is a monument to the historian Henry Hallam, 
who died January 21, 1849. 

The whispering gallery is reached by 260 steps. 
Standing at one side, one can hear distinctly whis- 
pering upon the opposite side. The great clock, 
and bell, and library, and many other things, are 
objects of great interest. 

My visit to the Tower of London was not on a 
pleasant day. It had been dark, gloomy, and 

foreboded rain; and after 
the place was reached the 
rain fell copiously and with- 
o u t intermission. T h e 
tower itself, with what lies 
within it, is a history of 
the past. It is in the 
heart of the city, and its record is one of strange- 
ness, of sadness, and reaches backward into the 
dim past. William the Conqueror in 1078 built 
the White Tower, and the remainder has been 
added by different monarchs. Entering this 
gloomy, forbidding, yet fascinating building, one 
of the first objects to engage the attention was 
the dingy, unattractive room called the Jewel 
Tower, where are kept the regalia or crown jew- 
els. An iron fence with upright bars surrounds 


the Spot, and they are carefully preserved in glass 
cases. It is a fine show. The amount of gold, 
diamonds, pearls, and shining rubies is delightful 
for the eyes to see. Victoria's crown is there, — 
a cap of purple velvet enclosed with loops of sil- 
ver, while rising above it, and brilliant with dia- 
monds, are a ball and cross. The centre of the 
latter is a wonderful sapphire ; and a heart-shaped 
ruby in front is said to have been worn by the 
Black Prince. 

St. Edward's crown, made for Charles II, and 
always used at a coronation, the crown of the 
Prince of Wales, of pure gold without jewels, the 
ancient queen's crown, worn at coronations by 
the queen consort, are there. Then there was 
the queen's diadem, adorned with costly pearls 
and diamonds, made for the queen of James 11^ 
the royal sceptre, St. Edward's staff, four feet 
seven inches long, of pure gold, the small sceptre, 
the rod or sceptre with the dove, the ivory scep- 
tre, the golden sceptre, the cutana or pointless 
sword of mercy, the swords of justice, the coro- 
nation bracelets, the coronation spurs, the anoint- 
ing vessel and spoon, golden salt-cellar, and the 
dishes, plates, and spoons used when any mem- 
ber of the royal family is christened, and numer- 
ous other evidences of the costliness of royalty. 
It makes a fine appearance; and if the whole 
could be sold, and the proceeds, used as a fund, 
given to the poor people of Ireland who starve 


periodically, it would be an act of mercy. The 
value of the jewels is estimated at nine million 

The Horse Armory is filled with equestrian fig- 
ures clad in complete armor, such as was used 
through several centuries. Horses and men are 
heavily protected. Down the length of the long 
room are the equestrian figures clad with the 
very armor worn by the men whose names they 
bear. Arms of all ages and of every country are 
in this and other halls, and one million rifles ready 
for use are said to stand there. 

It takes many buildings collectively to make 
the Tower, which is, and always has been, a for- 
tress. In one of the courts is the place where 
Anne Boleyn, the Earl of Essex, and Lady Jane 
Grey were executed. A railing and stone mark 
the place, with the words, "Site of the ancient 
scaffold." On this spot Queen Anne Boleyn was 
beheaded May 19, 1536. 

Instruments of torture are shown the visitor. 
There is the headsman's block, and the very axe 
he used, and the identical mask he wore when 
engaged in his horrible work. The thumb screw 
as applied was not a pleasant experience, and 
the rack with the person laid in a box, with ropes 
tied to ankles and wrists, and the windlasses 
turned till the subject's joints were dislocated, was 
not a thing to be greatly desired. 

In the Beauchamp Tower, where Philip, Earl 


of Arundel, was confined for ten years on sus- 
picion of trying to aid Mary Queen of Scots, is 
still to be seen his inscription on the wall: "Even 
as it is an infamy to be imprisoned on account of 
crime, so, on the contrary, it is the greatest glory 
to endure prison chains for Christ's sake." In 
the chapel of St. Peter's ad Vincula are buried 
many famous persons who fell under royal dis- 

Traitor's Gate was an entrance to the Tower 
for those prisoners brought from the water. The 
Bloody Tower was where the infant princes, sons 
of Edward IV, were murdered by Richard III. So 
the record might go on of what is to be seen 
there, of the scenes of peril, agony, and woe 
enacted there, but which are all of the past. It 
seems that the progress and elevation of mankind 
have been through suffering, sacrifice, and blood. 
Such has been the case of the Mother Country; 
and through that fiery ordeal, extending through 
long centuries, the England of to-day, in its proud 
position and with its many privileges, has been 
developed from the England of the past. 

Longing for more sights than I had seen, like 
Don Quixote I again sallied forth in quest of ad- 
venture. Quitting Piccadilly, Hyde Park was 
entered, with its 388 acres of beauty. Any pleas- 
ant afternoon can there be seen the most magnifi- 
cent turnouts in the kingdom, with the nobility 
and people of the highest rank. At Prince's Gate, 


near the spot where the exhibition of 185 1 was 
held, is the Albert Memorial, one of the most mag- 
nificent monuments in the world, the spire reach- 
ing to the height of 175 feet. Under the canopy 
is a gilt statue of Prince Albert fifteen feet high. 
Four flights of steps lead to it, 130 feet wide. 
Each of the four angles is represented by a group 
of statues representing one of the four grand divi- 
sions of the earth, while the base is surrounded 
by 200 life-size figures of noted men of different 
times. The expense of this splendid work of art 
was $720,000. When one sees this, the questions 
arise, Why this expense ? What did Prince Albert 
ever do to merit it? He was a pleasant, agree- 
able, accomplished gentleman, and was the hus- 
band of the queen. These are his claims. The 
money to pay for this monumental folly eventually 
comes out of the overtaxed people. England has 
many men vastly superior to him, not of royal 
blood, who have done more for their country, who 
merit a monument more than he, but to whom 
none will ever be erected. 

Royal Albert Hall, in the vicinity, is as beauti- 
ful as it is immense ; will hold, when crowded, 
11,000 people, and will seat comfortably 8,000. 
It has the largest organ in the world. The hall 
is circular in form, and is covered with a glass 
dome. Its cost was nearly a million dollars, and 
it is used for concerts, balls, and exhibitions. 

The gardens of the Royal Horticultural Society 


are near, and there I attended the International 
Health Exhibition. Of the South Kensington 
Museum, with its picture galleries, library, collec- 
tions of antiques and curiosities, and number- 
less other treasures, I will not attempt to speak. 
They were examined with profit. The Kensing- 
ton gardens, of 210 acres, are finely cared for, and 
are worthy of many visits. Music is discoursed 
by an excellent band, and great numbers of peo- 
ple frequent the place daily. 

The Crystal Palace, at Sydenham, was another 
place visited. The grounds upon which it is sit- 
uated are extensive, very elevated, and very beau- 
tiful. From the loftiest towers about this palace 
of glass, which are 282 feet high, there are mag- 
nificent views of the country for miles. The 
grounds are elaborately laid out, and beautiful 
with beds of flowers, green lawns, trees, and flow- 
ing fountains. In 1853-54 this establishment was 
erected, and it is composed of many of the mate- 
rials of the Crystal Palace of 185 1. It is 1,608 
feet in length, with aisles and transepts of great 
length, width, and height. In this building is a 
wonderful collection of things to delight the eye 
and to gratify the taste. Like the leaves of the 
forest, they are so numerous it seems like an im- 
possible task to attempt a description. 

One afternoon a London friend took me to 
Hampstead heath, which contains 240 acres of 
land. We were on a half-day's stroll, and wan- 



dered through many old streets and quaint thor- 

In all business parts of London, and in all 
those portions "where anybody that is anybody" 
does not reside, the liquor-shops are alarmingly 
numerous, which vast throngs of men and women 
frequent. What surprised me was the 7i07tcha- 
lant air with which they enter them, it being with 
as much freedom as they would pass into a gro- 
cery or bake-shop. Women and girls stand at 
the bar and drink liquors ; and girls, young and 
handsome, are almost universally the bar-tenders. 
The government derives a great income from the 
tax upon liquors; and there must be a marvellous 
reform in the habits of all classes of the people 
before the English or British people become a 

temperate nation. This 
is a place for the temper- 
ance reformers, and the 
fields are white for the 


England owes a debt 
of gratitude to William 
Caxton. He was born 
in Weald, County Kent, 
about 1422, and died in 
caxton's Press. 1 49 1 or 1 49 2. He intro- 

duced the art of printing into England, having 
established himself as a printer at Westminster 
previous to 1477. His office was in the Almonry. 


While in London I met Hon. Thomas Bio-aer, 
M. P., one of the Irish members, and a National- 
ist, and also made the acquaintance of Rev. Dr. 
Kinnear, JM. P., from the north of Ireland, an 
agreeable, fine gentleman. Parliament was then 
in session, and he seldom returned to the hotel 
till 3 o'clock in the morning, having been in at- 
tendance upon legislative duties all night. By his 
kind invitation we left our hotel, and when near 
the Egyptian obelisk, mentioned on page 253, 
took a boat upon the Thames, and when 
opposite the parliament buildings disem- 
barked and entered from the water a pri- 
vate passage-way for the members. He 
showed me every part of the noble edi- 
fice, occupying three hours. Was in the 
chapel under the parliament buildings where 
monks worshipped many hundred years ago; was 
in the room where Cromwell signed the death- 
warrant of Charles I ; stood on the pavement 
directly beneath which Guy Fawkes had arranged 
to blow up the parliament ; was in the various 
committee-rooms, in some of which the destiny of 
empires has been decided ; in the commons, and 
saw the marks upon a table made by the ring on 
Gladstone's finger, for, as he speaks, he strikes 
his hand heavily upon the desk, — and came away 
greatly gratified, and with samples of stationery 
used by the lords and commons bearing the seal 
of Great Britain. My facilities for seeing and 


hearing were exceptional, and were profitably and 
pleasantly improved. 

I was frequently at Westminster. Westminster 
Hall is 290 feet long, 68 feet wide, and 90 feet 
high. It is considered the grandest in the world, 
and visitors universally admire the lofty oaken 
roof. There parliament assembled as early as the 
year 1248, and the high courts of justice were 
held here for 750 years. There Sir William Wal- 
lace and Charles I, in different centuries, were 
tried and condemned to death. There Cromwell 
was inaugurated Protector, and Charles II was 
proclaimed king May 8, 1660. Warren Hastings 
there underwent his famous and eventful trial 
of seven years. In the glowing words of Ma- 
caulay, it is "the great hall of William Rufus; 
the hall which had resounded with acclamations at 
the inaugurations of thirty kings ; the hall which 
had witnessed the just sentence of Bacon, and the 
just absolution of Somers; the hall where the elo- 
quence of Stratford had for a moment awed and 
melted a victorious party inflamed with just resent- 
ment; the hall where Charles had confronted the 
hicrh court of justice with the placid courage which 
has half redeemed his fame." An immense win- 
dow of stained glass, which is a picture of beauty 
when the sun shines upon it, is opposite the en- 
trance. The private entrance of the members to 
the House of Commons is half way up the hall, 
upon the left side. The long, narrow passage 


leads to the inner lobby of the commons. Ascend- 
ing a flight of stone steps at the termination of 
the hall, one is admitted to the archway entrance 
to the House of Commons upon the left, and the 
House of Lords upon the right. The visitors' 
entrance to both houses is through a long marble 
hall or gallery, which is very beautiful, and lined 
with rare and costly paintings. It is strange that 
in British art galleries one sees hardly an object 
to commemorate any event important to America, 
or which in any way alludes to Briton's proud daugh- 
ter across the seas. She has not been generous 
in this respect to her relatives in this hemisphere, 
as such paintings would gladden the heart of every 
American when he visited the old home, the coun- 
try from which came his ancestors, and where they 
lived. There is, however, upon this wall one 
painting of this description, — about the only one 
I saw in England, — the Embarking of the Pilgrim 
Fathers for New England. It is a fitting memento 
of that heroic group who 

" Shook the depths of tlic desert gloom 
With their hymns of lofty cheer. 

% % % % % ^ % 

"Amidst the storm they sang, 

And the stars heard, and the sea; 
And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang 

To the anthem of the free." 

Policemen are everywhere. They are at the 
members' private entrance, and gracefully salute 


each member as he passes in, on the flight of 
steps at the door formerly spoken of, and two 
stand at a large door which admits those who 
have tickets from the members into a waiting- 
room, where they remain till there is room for 
them in the strangers' gallery. 

Marble statues of eminent statesmen line the 
walls, which visitors can look upon as they sit 
on leather-covered seats which extend the length 
of the hall impatiently waiting to see Britain's liv- 
ing statesmen. There is great difficulty in getting 
into the House of Commons, but there are two 
ways of doing it. One is to bribe a policeman, 
which can usually be done. But commonly a 
stranger must be invited by a member, and must 
show his ticket to the police, who line the door- 
ways and corridors, before he can enter. In the 
strangers' gallery there is room for two hundred 
persons, and often there are many hundreds of 
applicants. Therefore visitors' names must be 
balloted for several days before the proposed visit. 
The ladies' gallery is at the end opposite the one 
for strangers, and is small, and the faces of the 
fair auditors are partially hidden by a screen or 
glass. Our congress commences its sessions at 
midday ; parliament does not commence its pub- 
lic business till 4:30 p. m., so the sessions are pro- 
longed far into the night, and oftentimes till near 
morninof. The members of each house can sit 
with their hats on, but all do not do so. 


While waiting in Westminster one day, a gen- 
tleman passed a policeman, when the latter po- 
litely asked him to open his satchel which he car- 
ried. He did so, with some annoyance. "Why 
is this?" "Oh! we have to look out for dyna- 
mite," said the policeman. Every possible method 
was adopted to prevent it from being carried into 
the building. Another time, when standing in 
the long line to send in my card to a member, a 
gentleman touched me upon the shoulder. It 
was Rev. Mr. Graham, a Presbyterian clergyman 
of Philadelphia, a fellow-passenger on the City of 
Chicago. We had parted at Queenstown months 
before. He had been to Palestine, and was on 
his return. The meeting was very pleasant. 

I was shown into the gallery of the House of 
Lords. At one end was an elegant chair, which 
was the throne, reached by two or three steps. 
There the queen sits upon state occasions. In 
front, on a sort of table called the woolsack, sat 
the presiding officer, the high lord chancellor, in 
his robes of office. At his rio-ht were the white- 


robed lord bishops of the Established Church. The 
remainder of the lords were dressed in plain black 
suits. One hundred and twenty members were 
present. The lords were discussing a bird bill. 
Neither the subject nor the discussion was inter- 
esting. From the personal appearance of the 
lords, and their manner of elucidating the subject 
under discussion, they did not impress me as being 


at all superior to any body of intelligent men. 
It is doubtful if they are equal in ability to the 
United States senate. The hall where the lords 
meet is a most costly and magnificent room. The 
gilding and carved work, and the twelve windows 
of stained glass, are all of great beauty. Elegant 
frescoes decorate the walls. I was peculiarly for- 
tunate in securing; admission to the House of 
Commons. Having a letter of introduction to Sir 
Thomas McClure, M. P., from Belfast, Ireland, he 
very kindly showed me to a front seat in the 
speaker's gallery, a few feet at the right of the 
seat of the Prince of Wales. The whole gallery 
was packed with visitors. Looking about to see 
who were my companions, I noticed at my side 
four copper-colored gentlemen. The face of one 
was completely tattooed. His ears were so large 
that they might have been pinned back to the 
sides of his head. There was a great hole in one 
ear, with a stupendous ear-ring with a little red 
flag appended. This was the Maori king, from 
New Zealand, who was on a visit to England with 
his suite. They were not bad looking men, and 
were watching with deep attention the proceed- 
ings in the commons. The question under dis- 
cussion was "woman suffrage." Mr. Gladstone, 
the premier, sat at the right of the speaker, and 
interjected a remark occasionally, but made no set 
speech. Many members spoke, but I have heard 
much better speaking in our state legislatures. 


The franchise bill was to come before the 
house on a certain day, and I was anxious to be 
present. It was a pet measure of Mr. Gladstone's, 
and one of very great importance, for by its pro- 
visions, if carried, the right of suffrage would be 
given to more than three millions of men. An 
English friend had considerately given me a letter 
of introduction to Hon. Herbert Gladstone, son of 
the premier. At the appointed time this, with my 
card, was sent to him, when he came out and 
greeted me most kindly, and secured me a seat 
near my former one in the speaker's gallery. 

This Mr. Gladstone is a young man not much 
over thirty, apparently, modest, free, and gentle- 
manly, pleasing in his address and un-English 
in his manners. Some twelve members spoke 
during the discussion. They are not orators; 
they are not good speakers, as a whole. They 
have not the fire, vigor, and fluency of Americans. 
The most of them hesitate, and have a hitch at the 
end of a sentence similar to some Freewill Baptist 
preachers, which is not agreeable to hear. When 
a speaker gave utterance to thoughts not be- 
lieved in by his fellow-members, the cries of "Oh! 
oh! oh!" or "Hear! hear! hear!" or "Ah! ah! 
ah!" each cry quickly repeated with greater vol- 
ume of voice and with a rising inflection, was very 
laughable to a looker on, but not so to one mem- 
ber who was speaking, who was nearly silenced 
by them. The speaker sat motionless, like a 


Stick in the mud, careless, and made not the 
sHghtest effort to preserve order. There was no 
revelation in his countenance. He wears a full 
bottomed wig, and was in his robes of office. 
Three clerks in short wigs sat in front of him. 
Sir Stafford Northcote, a strong man, and leader 
of the opposition, sat opposite Mr. Gladstone, and 
spoke. He is a thorough Englishman in his man- 
ner, looks, and speech. His hair was gray, he 
wore long, gray whiskers, and was slow and la- 
bored in his style of speaking. Stolid and cold, 
phlegmatic in manner, he would not awaken any 
bursts of enthusiasm, or lead captive the hearts of 
men. Members whose names were unknown to 
me discussed the question, and one made allusion 
to woman suffrage in Wyoming territory. 

But there was one man, nearly eighty years of 
age, of great eloquence and wonderful vitality, 
whose face I had studied closely, and whom I 
hoped to hear ; a man who makes politics the 
business of his life, and for recreation delves in 
the highest departments of literature ; who is a 
hard student ; who has all the good things of 
life, and yet lives temperately; who is a good 
churchman, attends services in the abbey, and 
attends theatres and the race-course ; one who 
mingles freely with his fellow-men, who loves 
them, and is loved by them; who can walk 
daily many miles, and swing an axe as vigor- 
ously on his own estate for exercise as our rail- 



splitting; president did in his youth. At last he 
arose to speak. It was Gladstone, the premier. 
He spoke with the readiness, the acuteness, and 
the clearness of an American. He seems like an 
American in his looks, speech, and appearance, 
and does not appear like an Englishman. He is 
apparently better adapted to letters than to the 
contentions of political life. The sentences fell 
from his lips with fluency, yet finished and com- 
plete. Mr. Gladstone, physically, has nothing of 

William E. Gladstone. 

that ponderousness which is attributed to Web- 
ster. He has light complexion, and features, in his 
old age, which are rather sharp, with a face so cul- 
tivated, so sensitive, and so refined as to be capa- 
ble of expressing in a manner the most forcible 
the widest and most varying shades of human feel- 
ing. His eyes are wonderfully captivating, and 


when lighted up his whole soul is in them. It 
seems utterly impossible for any human being to 
possess such features, face, and eyes as Gladstone 
has, and not be capable of the most exquisite en- 
joyment or the keenest mental suffering. Of an 
infinitely higher nature than Bismarck's, with a lof- 
tier manhood and a more elevated statesmanship, 
he has led Britain by the transcendent powers of 
his intellect, while the great Prussian rules Ger- 
many by the iron hand of force. In all of Glad- 
stone's looks, bearing, and appearance there is 
not even an insinuation of grossness. He is a 
polished gentleman, whom any person can meet 
with perfect freedom, and who is guided and 
controlled by the highest sentiments and feel- 
ings of his intellectual and moral nature. Such 
he appears to be : such his friends claim that he 
is. One of the most remarkable men of this age, 
Gladstone is preeminently the greatest living 



] IMPATIENT to be upon the Continent, while 
? loath to leave London, tickets were secured 
for a tour through Belgium, Germany, Switzer- 
land, and France, and back to London. At 8 
o'clock p. M., on June 17, I left the Liverpool 
Street station for Harwich, Antwerp, and the 
Rhine. A run of seventy miles brought us to 
Harwich, where at 10 p. m. we took a steamer 
across the choppy English Channel to Antwerp. 
In the brightness of the early morning we passed, 
for several hours, through a flat, not uninterest- 
ing country, where were the new-mown hay, and 
lines of trees regularly and neatly pruned of limbs 
for some fifteen feet from the ground, which stood 
between the fields. Rain had fallen during the 
night, and everything was clear and fresh and 
beautiful when we reached Antwerp, a city of 
200,000 inhabitants, and one of the most interest- 
ing cities in Belgium. The city has been illus- 
trious in its day. There is a claim that it was 
founded before the eighth century by a Saxon 
people. The main provisions of the Habeas Cor- 
pus Act of England, declaring the right of every 


man to be tried by his peers, to have a voice in 
the raising of taxes, and claiming the inviolabihty 
of the dwelhng of a citizen, were engrafted in the 
law of the city in 1290. At one time it was 
of great commercial importance. Five hundred 
ships have in a day entered its port, and 2,500 
been anchored upon the river Scheldt at a time. 
The ancient fortifications were demolished in i860, 
and beautiful boulevards, streets, and avenues 
have since been laid out. Many of its streets 
look old, and are quite narrow. Broad avenues, 
with rows of trees and walks, run through the 
centre of the boulevards, and add greatly to the 
attractiveness of the city. 

Antwerp has been one of the head-centres in 
art for several hundred years. Its picture galle- 
ries, and its churches and cathedrals, are thronged 
with admiring visitors. One of the first objects of 
my visit was the Cathedral of Notre Dame, which 
dates back to the middle of the fourteenth cen- 
tury. One of its towers rises 403 feet, while the 
other has never been completed. Not attractive 
in its exterior, it is full of beauty within, for it is 
illumined and glorified with paintings from the 
hands of the old masters, which will endure for 
centuries. A painting, Rubens's " Immaculate 
Conception," is at the top of the cathedral dome. 
There are his "Elevation of the Cross" and the 
" Descent from the Cross." The latter is consid- 
ered by artists one of his master-pieces. Others, 


like " In the Garden of Olives," attract great at- 
tention and admiration from those qualified to 
judge of works of art. 

On the sides of the cathedral were fig^ures in 
wood, nearly life size, of twenty-four of the prin- 
cipal angels ; and between them, at regular inter- 
vals, were the confessionals, — sort of boxed-up 
chairs, — with the name of the officiating priest 
upon each. This is common in the Roman Cath- 
olic cathedrals upon the continent. 

The museum is an important one, in which is a 
fine picture gallery of over 700 paintings from 
noted artists. In the department of curiosities 
are printing-presses of 155 5-1 600. The walls are 
covered with leather paper, upon which are elab- 
orate figures. There are also a great number of 
relics of untold value. 

Peter Paul Rubens, the distinguished Flemist 
painter, who was born at Siegen, Germany, June 
29. 1577. was a resident of Antwerp the last years 
of his life, and died there May 30, 1640. His 
house still exists, is pointed out to visitors, and 
excites much attention. 

Leaving the place so full of history, the swift 
cars soon took me to Brussels, the captivating 
capital of Belgium, a city of 400,000 people. It 
has its parks, and its boulevard on the site of the 
old fortifications encircles the place. Three or four 
rows of trees extend through it, and between 
them are walks and streets for driving, and also 


tracks for the tramway cars. The mansions of 
the wealthy are here. Brussels has magnificent 
and stately buildings, and is well termed Paris 
in miniature, for it is truly very fascinating with 
its long, wide, straight, clean, and well paved 
streets. The Hotel de Ville is an elegant struct- 
ure, with a lofty spire 370 feet high. The city 
council chamber is brilliant with its walls of paint- 
ings. There are the lottery chambers, with the 
lottery wheels looking like immense coffee-mills. 
These are turned, and by chance is told the bond- 
holder who shall pay in full for redeeming the 
debt of the city. Tapestry is exhibited which is 
400 years old. Visited the hall where, it is said by 
some and denied by others, the Duchess of Rich- 
mond gave a ball the night before the battle of 
Waterloo, and which has been immortalized by 
Byron : 

" There was a sound of revelry by night, 
And Belgium's capital had gathered then 
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright 

The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men." 

The hall surprised me by its smallness and lack 
of elegance, and I could hardly realize that just 
sixty-nine years before, on the night previous to 
the battle, the brilliant assemblage gathered there 
of " fair women and brave men," and how the 
sounds of war broke in upon their ears, and brave 
men, with blanched faces, spoke the parting words 
and took tender farewells of tearful women, and 
hurried forward to the terrible field of Waterloo. 


The Bourse is worthy of this substantial city. 
From the gallery, as one looked down upon the 
floor, there was a perfect Babel of voices, which 
arose from the multitude of jostling, excited men 
below. Very interesting was my visit to a lace 
manufactory. I saw the pattern of a bridal veil of 
a princess, daughter of one of the royal families 
in Europe, which took four hundred work people 
three months to make. As wages are low there, 
it then only cost seven thousand dollars. Collars 
such as ladies usually wear are sold at from three 
to seven dollars each. These are all manufac- 
tured by hand; and it was instructive to watch 
the trained fingers of the fair young workers. 

The King's Park is a place of great attractions, 
with its trees, walks, and statues of noted men. 

The chief museum is evidently one of the finest 
on the continent. There was exhibited the skel- 
eton of the largest whale found for several cen- 
turies. Its ribs seemed like the sides of a ship, 
and the mouth would admit a small boat. The 
picture gallery was magnificent. One could wan- 
der from room to room and look upon the rarest 
pictures of the best artists of the past. One room 
was filled with Rubens's paintings (1577- 1640). 
He must have been a wonderfully prolific artist, 
as his reputed pictures are in many celebrated 
galleries. His subjects did not always show a 
great refinement of taste in their selection. In 
one a priest had his tongue cut out, which 


was thrown to a dog. It was a horrible thing. 
From the museum was a good view of the city, 
with its houses with tile roofs. 

The Palace of Justice is a magnificent build- 
ing, on a high elevation, erected at a cost of 
about ten million dollars. Built of creamy, light 
stone, it is a building worthy of a great nation, 
and too extravagant for a nationality like Belgium. 
It is one of the most ambitious and magnificent 
buildines erected in modern times. There are in 
the interior twenty-seven large court-rooms, eight 
open courts, and two hundred and forty-five apart- 
ments. Four hundred feet above the pavement 
is the gilded cross which surmounts the building. 

One is amazed at the exceeding smallness of 
the soldiers, and of the people generally in Bel- 
gium. The tourist is surprised at the amount 
of recreation and out-of-door life seen all about 
him. In Brussels the sidewalks are wide, with 
protecting awnings. Front of the cafes were 
chairs and tables filled with people day and even- 
ing, talking, laughing, and drinking their beer. 
Whole families were there, — men with their sis- 
ters and sweethearts, men with their wives and 
children, grouped about a table. They sipped 
their beer as we would tea, and did not swallow 
two or three glasses as an American would, and 
go away to other business. Throughout Germany 
the people enjoy this public domestic life, and it 
is inexpensive. The cigars which the German 


smokes and the beer which he drinks are not 
costly. Then there are the open-air concerts, 
where trained and accomphshed bands discourse 
sweet music to them. The latter has an elevating- 
and refinine influence. It is no wonder that the 
Germans are musicians and lovers of melody, for 
there is probably not a city in Germany, or hardly 
a beer garden, where the people are not enter- 
tained by music publicly given, either free or at 
an expense of a few pence. There they sit in the 
cool of the evening beneath the trees, with the 
space lit up by many lamps, or walk about and 
chat with friends, and seem contented and happy. 
Dull care is driven away, and recreation is the 
duty of the hour. These are simple pleasures, 
comparatively harmless, but would be hardly satis- 
fying to persons of ambitious tendencies, like the 
active, nervous Americans. All the peasantry, 
old and young, wear wooden shoes, which go 
clamp, clamp, clam-p as they wander over the 
stony street. Maps of the country are painted 
upon the walls of the railway stations, giving 
towns and distances, which greatly aid the travel- 
ler. This custom is being adopted in American 

Brussels has more artificial beauties and more 
costly edifices than Edinburgh, but its situation 
and natural beauty are not so great; and its people 
— they are so different from the Scotch ! 

Waterloo, eight miles away, was visited. The 



battle-field is a mile and a half from the station, 
to which tourists are carried by carriages in wait- 
ing. A huge mound, circular in form, has been 

raised upon the field. 
It is 200 feet high, 
2,100 feet in circum- 
ference, and is sur- 
mounted with a pil- 
lar and the Belgian 
lion. By a singular 
coincidence, I visited 
the place on the six- 
ty-ninth anniversary 
of the fight. Quite 

Mound at Waterloo. a number of tOUristS 

were there. On portions of the field the bright 
red-clover was in full bloom, almost as red as the 
blood of the brave men which drenched the land. 
I have never seen this variety of clover in Amer- 
ica. Other portions of the field were under the 
plow, or luxuriant with vegetables, growing grain, 
or the waving grass. Different portions of the 
ground were visited. A fine view is had from the 
summit of the mound, where the movements of 
the armies were fully and intelligently explained 
by the guide. The place was shown where, in 
the decisive hour, while victory was trembling in 
the balance, Ney, the "bravest of the brave," at 
the head of the "Old Guard," tried to stem the 
tide of battle, and struck the last blow for Napo- 


leon and the empire. But it was not in human 
power to withstand the terrible battle-tempest ; 
and this favorite portion of the army, which never 
reeled in the shock of battle before, was decimated. 
It wavered, it broke, it was borne back, and its 
bleeding, suffering columns sullenly yielded the 
field. Then the fearful cry swept along the quiv- 
ering lines of the French, "The guard recoils! The 
guard recoils ! " — and the field was lost. Napoleon 
was a fugitive, and the empire was of the past ! 

Returned to Brussels, and had quarters at the 
Grand Hotel, which were excellent. Had been 
travelling with an Englishman, and we fell in with 
a very agreeable, intelligent family from New- 
castle-on-Tyne, by the name of Bell, who, having 
spent the winter in Italy, were returning to Eng- 
land, and our party did Brussels in company. 
Here we divided; — my English friend left for 
Paris, the rest of the party for England, while 
I went direct to Aix la Chapelle. 

I was now in Germany, Polite officials exam- 
ined our goods as we passed the frontier from 
one kingdom into another. The country through 
which we passed was a fine agricultural region, 
highly cultivated, and adorned with trees. While 
asking a Swiss gentleman a political question in 
relation to Bismarck, I noticed a smile pass over 
the face of a German gentleman who sat opposite. 
The Swiss gave an evasive answer ; and when the 
German left the car he gave an explanation, say- 


ing Germany was not England or the United 
States, and were it proven that one had uttered 
a word reflecting sharply upon King William 
or Bismarck, he would be liable to be sent to 
prison for three years. Not a good place for lib- 
erty-of-speech-loving Americans! This is a very 
ancient city, and has a population of 85,000. 
It is pleasantly situated, and surrounded by 
sloping hills. Charlemagne gave it its v/orld- 
wide celebrity, and made it a city of the first mag- 
nitude. It was his favorite place of residence, and 
there he died January 28, 814. Up to 153 1 thirty- 
seven German emperors had been crowned here. 

The hotels are attractive, each having connected 
with it a garden filled with trees, statuary, and 
flowing fountains, which, when lit up in the even- 
ing, make it a sort of fairy land. Curious sights 
greet one on every hand. Dogs are always muz- 
zled, as dogs always should be, and are harnessed 
beneath two-wheeled carts, which they carry 
along, while the owner guides it as he travels be- 
hind. Express bundles, milk, bread, and other 
articles are thus transported over the city. Dogs 
thus used are very patient, work hard, and will 
haul quite a load. I visited the ancient cathedral, 
a portion of which was built by Charlemagne more 
than 1,000 years ago, or about 799. Numerous 
additions have been made since. Its exterior is 
sixteen-sided, and it is a very ancient and rather 
dilapidated looking building, showing plainly the 


ravages of time. In the interior is a stone marked 
" Carolo Magno^' and marks the tomb of Charle- 
magne, In the treasury are sacred rehcs, pre- 
sented to the great emperor, and which are shown 
to the people once in seven years. There were 
religious services in the cathedral during a part of 
my visit. The music was by a choir of male 
voices. The strains were so loud and sweet, it 
seemed almost as though they would touch re- 
sponsively the sleeping emperor Charlemagne. 
The city is not beautiful, except the boulevards, 
where all kinds of early fruits were for sale, and 
where the people congregated so largely and en- 
joyed themselves so much in the evenings. 

A two hours ride through a section of country 
not romantic, but pleasing, brought me to the city 
of Cologne, the largest place in the Rhenish 
province of Prussia. In A. D. 51, Agrippina, the 
mother of Nero^ founded here a colony of Roman 
veterans, which was called Colonia Agrippinensis. 
Remains still exist of the walls surrounding this 
early settlement. It is now one of the important 
commercial cities of Germany, as its steamboat 
and railway facilities are excellent. It is situated 
130 feet above sea level, on the bank of the river, 
with a military garrison of 7,000 men, and a pop- 
ulation of 145,000 people, of whom 120,000 are 
Catholics. I registered at Hotel de Hollande, on 
the bank of the beautiful Rhine. Bright anticipa- 
tions were with me of a passage up the Rhine. 


The enchanting river was now flowing serenely 
in front, and almost beneath my hotel windows. 
Upon the opposite side, and reached by an iron 
bridge and a bridge of boats, was the town of 
Deutz, with its 15,000 inhabitants. Numberless 
boats were upon the river, with banners flying, 
with bands discoursing sweet music, and filled with 
throngs of excursionists : the sight of these could 
not but cause one to desire to be upon its sil- 
very waters, to gaze upon the vine-clad hills 
which skirt its shores, and look upon the frown- 
ing fortresses and ancient castles and ruins 
which bristle along its sides, and with which are 
connected legends, the themes of song and story. 
For centuries the beauties of the river have been 
the topic of writers and poets, and my experi- 
ence subsequently told me that they had not 
been over-estimated. 

My first business was to inspect the city of Co- 
logne. The streets are narrow, gloomy, and unat- 
tractive, and not properly cared for. I repaired 
to its cathedral, which excites the admiration of 
all beholders and is the pride of every citizen. It 
is considered the most magnificent Gothic edifice 
in the world, and stands on an elevation sixty feet 
above the river. The foundation was laid August 
14, 1248, and its completion was celebrated Octo- 
ber 15, 1880. Its length is 444 feet, and is 201 
feet wide. The length of the transepts is 282 
feet. The walls are 150 feet high, and the height 


of the roof 201 feet. The central tower is 357 
feet high. The towers are 512 feet in height, and 
are the loftiest in Europe. The outside of the 
building is decorated with a multitude of turrets 
and figures. The interior, with its rich, stained 
windows and fine architecture, is very impressive. 
Some of these windows date back 500 years. 

" I lift mine eyes, and all the windows blaze 
\Vith forms of saints and holy men who died, 
Here martyred, and hereafter glorified." 

The different chapels and the treasury are full 
of relics and treasures, which are held in highest 
value — beyond price. I went through all portions, 
and ascended to the highest accessible pinnacle, 
which commanded a magnificent view of the city, 
the country beyond, and the curving Rhine. 

There are other churches, ancient and curious. 
St, Martin was consecrated in 1172. St. Ursula 
is on the site of a church of the fifth century, and 
the bones of 11,000 virgins are said to repose 
here. St. George was consecrated in 1067. 

The long iron bridge for travellers and trains, 
built across the Rhine, is a fine affair, and steam- 
boats can pass beneath it. A bridge of boats also 
spans the river, which opens for passing ships. 
Cologne is well worth a careful inspection, for 
it is an interesting city with a great many curiosi- 
ties and noted places. 

Left Cologne for Bonn, by rail, and on the way 
had an exciting railway race. Two passenger 


trains whirled away from the city on parallel lines. 
There seems to be an inherent propensity in 
the human heart to have a race, whether by 
horses, by steamboat, or by train : so it was here. 
Each train increased its speed : the passengers 
on either train waved their handkerchiefs and 
beckoned for those in the rear to come along. 
The excitement on both trains increased, and we 
were whirled along at a rapid rate, when suddenly 
our neighbors dashed away on a sharp turn to 
the left, and were soon out of sight. It was an 
exciting, enjoyable race, and we beat the other 
train ! 

Only a few hours were spent in Bonn, which 
is delightfully situated on the west bank of the 
Rhine, with 3,600 people. It is one of the most 
important university towns. I went through the 
market, which is in a large open square of the city. 
It was very amusing. All kinds of produce were 
for sale by the peasant women, and there were 
hundreds of them, while the utmost good feel- 
ing prevailed among them. The Munster is an 
imposing church. In the city is a bronze statue 
of Beethoven, who was born 1770, and died 1827. 
In the town are many English residents, and 
pleasant villas line the bank of the Rhine, and 
beautiful promenades, shaded by trees, make the 
city very attractive. 

The most beautiful scenery of the Rhine lies 
between Bonn and Mayence, or, to bring it within 




closer bounds, Coblentz and Bingen, the distance 
between the latter towns being about forty miles. 
A beautiful sunny day, with a clear atmosphere 
and blue skies, with a gay steamer, a band of 
music, and a club of Bavarian singers, with an in- 
telligent and interesting company, conspired to 
make the trip up the Rhine most enjoyable. It 
was at midday when we left Bonn. At first the 
scenery was tame, but soon we reached the high, 
rugged banks of the Siebengebirge (seven moun- 
tains), and from this point forward the scenery 
was magnificent. We passed Drachenfels : 

" The castled crag of Drachenfels 

Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine, 
Whose breast of waters broadly swells 
Between the banks which bear the vine." 

Onward the precipitous banks are dotted over 
with castles. Many are in ruins: some have been 
restored to their former condition, and are beauti- 
ful or romantic. At 6 p. m. we anchored at Cob- 
lentz. The view of the town is very attractive 
from the river. Hotels, public buildings, and 
dwelling-houses front the water, and presented a 
gala appearance. The town is situated at the 
junction of the rivers Moselle and Rhine; is the 
capital of the Rhenish province of Russia, with a 
population of 3 i ,000. Five thousand troops are 
garrisoned here. From it large quantities of the 
Rhine wines are exported to all parts of the world. 
A bridge of boats, which makes a picturesque ap- 



pearance, connects the town with Thai Ehrenbreit- 
stein, a pretty town, situated between commanding 

heights. In distinct 
view, on the oppo- 
site side of the 
river, is the Gibraltar 
of the Rhine, the 
famous fortress of 
Ehrenbreitstein. It 
surmounts a precipitous rock, and rises 387 feet 
above the river, and is unapproachable upon three 
sides. It is wonderfully strong in appearance. 
At the south is Fort Asterstein, another strong 

The morning succeeding my arrival was Sunday. 
The bells were rung, and the little steamer front- 
ing my hotel window was lazily puffing away in 
the river. The strong old fortress looked down 
frowningly upon the water beneath. Front of 
the hotel were the booths of the women fruit- 
venders, who were trying to dispose of their per- 
ishable commodities. The Rhine hill-sides were 
lined with terrace above terrace, and covered with 
vineyards. On the bank is the Rhine promenade, 
which is most beautiful, and was visited by pedes- 
trians. In one part of the city a body of Prussian 
troops were drilling, and one could not but admire 
the precision of their action and the ease with 
which they went through their difficult and com- 
plicated movem.ents. 


Often have German beds been pronounced 
good, but it was not my fortune to find such a 
one. They are anything but agreeable. They 
are narrow, with their coverHds, and a huge bag 
of feathers (a foot and a half in thickness by two 
and a half in width, and three feet in length) 
thrown over the top to keep one warm. The bag 
was "too short at both ends." 

Again taking a steamer, we passed the palace, 
beneath the railway bridge, and in sight of lovely 
promenades. The Castle of Stolzenfels rises 310 
feet above the river, and is the property of the 
emperor. Mountains now lined both banks of 
the Rhine. Before reaching St. Goar, we passed 
the most imposing ruin upon the river. It was the 
Castle of Rheinfels. Farther on is Lurlei, 433 
feet above the water. In the rock dwelt the 
nymph, and with her syren attractions enticed 
those who roamed upon the waters to their death 
in the rapids at the foot of the precipice. Passing 
Oberwessel, later on, were seen the castle and pic- 
turesque ruins of Schonburg, with four great tow- 
ers. It was erected about the twelfth century, 
was destroyed by the French in 1689, and was the 
birthplace of Marshal Schomberg, who fell at the 
memorable Battle of the Boyne, in Ireland, under 
William Prince of Orange. Great numbers of 
castles on the Rhine have the same history — de- 
stroyed by the French ! The Germans have good 
memories, and in the late Franco-German war 


the victor demanded and received of the French 
nation so much territory and money as to settle 
up all accounts of past centuries and the present 

There is Bacharach lying sweetly fronting the 
Rhine, back of which are the extensive ruins of 
the once strong Castle of Stahleck, which the 
French captured eight times in twenty years, and 
destroyed in 1689. The old castles of Falkenburg, 
and the most beautiful castle of Rheinstein, are 
seen, and Ehrenfels Tower, built in 12 10, and de- 
stroyed by the French in 1689. ^^ "^^ centre of 
the river is the Mouse Tower, which is said to 
derive its name from the legend of Archbishop 
Hatto of Mayence. In a time of distressing fam- 
ine he burned some starving people in a barn, 
comparing them to mice. A curse followed him, 
or rather the mice did, to this island, and devoured 
him alive. 

At length we halted at "sweet Bingen on the 

Rhine," where I dis- 
^^ '^, ^W© e mbarked. Before 
^ji reaching this place 
r^f" was the grandest 
scenery on the river 
— a constantly changing view, each more beautiful 
than the one preceding it. From the steamer, as 
it follows the sharp, graceful curves of the stream, 
one can plainly see the castles on high elevations, 
in the distance and near at hand, while pleasant 


villas and villages line the shores. Bingen is a 
Hessian town of 6,500 people, pleasant for situa- 
tion. It is celebrated because of the sweet, pa- 
thetic poem of the Hon. Mrs. C. E. Norton, com- 
mencing — 

"A soldier of the legion lay dying in Algiers : 
There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's tears." 

He speaks of his "brothers and companions," of 
a sister, and of "another, not a sister," whom he 
would meet no more at "Bingen, sweet Bingen 
on the Rhine." The vineyards at and around this 
place, and on the opposite side of the river, are 
simply wonderful. For miles terraces rise above 
terraces, from the water's edge to the topmost 
point of the steeply sloping hill-side. The hills 
are studded with terrace walls, which are built to 
prevent the small amount of soil which exists from 
being washed into the river by the heavy rains. 
On these patches of earth the vines are planted, 
and are supported by small sticks. In places are 
great windrows of shelvy rocks, dug out ot the 
stony sides, not used in the construction of the 
terrace walls. On the opposite side of the Rhine 
is a magnificent monument, erected in honor of 
German soldiers who died in the war of 1870-71. 
The romance of the Rhine ceased at Bingen. 
The remainder of the route to Mayence, which oc- 
cupied two hours and a half, was through a coun- 
try of great luxuriance and fertility. From Bonn 
to Mayence occupied thirteen hours, — a part of 



two days. Possibly the natural scenery of the 
Rhine does not surpass that of the Highlands on 
the Hudson. The Rhine has castles and a his- 
tory, which the Hudson has not. It never can 
have such a record, but the centuries may bring 
it a more glorious one ; for the triumphs of 
peace will surpass the cruel, bloody triumphs of 
war. Mayence is a strongly fortified city, with 
8,000 soldiers and 54,000 inhabitants. 

Leaving Mayence, a ride of two hours and a half, 
through a fertile and level country, brought me to 
Heidelberg, where I had the pleasure of meeting 
parties from Kansas City, and Bishop J. F. Hurst, 
of the Methodist Episcopal Church, who had once 

been a student in Heidel- 
bere. As our routes for the 
next thirty-six hours were 
the same, we travelled in 
company. At Heidelberg 
the bishop was our pilot, 
and took us immediately to 
the ruined castle. This is a 
city of some 25,000 inhabi- 
tants, and for beauty of nat- 
ural scenery, of location, and 
for historical interest, can 
hardly be excelled. It is sit- 
uated on the Neckar, which 
connects with the Rhine twelve miles below. The 
castle was founded by Count Palatine Rudolph I, 


in the last decade of the thirteenth century. It 
underwent great changes through the succeed- 
ing centuries, and in the eighteenth covered a 
large extent of territory. Several times was it 
nearly destroyed by the ravages of war, and then 
rebuilt. It was at length a prey to the elements, 
being struck by lightning in 1764, and reduced to 
its present ruined condition. It is pronounced 
the most remarkable ruin in Germany. The ivy- 
clad walls are of great thickness, and to every 
point are attached historical associations. It is 
situated on the Jellenblihl, a wooded hill 300 feet 
above the Neckar, which flows through the valley 
beneath. The defensive walls upon three sides 
are surrounded by woods ; and from them one 
can look to the deep decline beneath, over the 
branching, leafy tree-tops, and upon the side fac- 
ing the town, can view the town itself, the hills 
upon the opposite shore, and also follow the grace- 
ful windings of the Neckar till in the distance it 
is lost in the widening plains. In and around the 
castle various kinds of architecture are to be seen. 
There are allegorical figures; and in the arches of 
the windows are medallions of famous persons of 
the long ago. Statues adorn the niches in the 
walls, and beautiful carvings everywhere abound. 
We were led through the gloomy subterranean 
passages, and beheld the strength and repulsive- 
ness of its old dungeons. Its largeness of extent, 

its massiveness, its height, and the labor bestowed 



on its erection, are very great. From the brow of 
a high hill back of it one can see, far beneath, the 
castle, the city with its house-roofs, beer-gardens, 
churches, university, the Neckar as it winds sin- 
uously for miles in the verdant plains, while oppo- 
site was a village, and nearer the steep hill-side 
covered with vineyards, with roads looking like 
deep cuts among them leading to the tops. 
Farther to the right the hills were finely wooded, 
and the whole hill-sides, with their waving, sway- 
ing branches of green, in the breezes of that sun- 
ny day, were beautiful. 

There was the celebrated great tun, which held 
800 hogsheads of wine ; was 32 feet long and 26 

feet high, with a plat- 
form upon its top large 
enough to dance a cotil- 

The famous universi- 
ty, founded by Rupert I 
in 1386, has more than 
600 students. The lat- 
ter belong to different 
clubs or societies, which are designated by the 
caps of differing colors which the members wear. 
Members of different societies are supposed not 
to love each other, and it is considered the part 
of manliness to fight duels. One sees many of 
the students in the streets and in the great beer- 
halls or restaurants, and some bear marks of sav- 


age cuts upon their faces. One in particular I 
recall, where the broad scar extended from the 
crown of the head to the jaw. 

Leaving Heidelberg, we went direct to Stras- 
burg (stopping only at Baden-Baden), passing 
through a highly cultivated country. Men, wom- 
en, young girls, and boys were at work at hay- 
ing in the fields, mowing with peculiar snaths and 
scythes, and with clumsy forks pitching hay upon 
their rude ox- or cow-wagons, for both oxen and 
cows are used singly or doubly. The women 
work as regularly in the fields as the men. The 
land is staked off into narrow strips, is highly cul- 
tivated, and yields abundant crops. The agricult- 
ural utensils are antiquated, and a hundred years 
behind American implements. The population is 
so dense that the smallness of territory allotted to 
each cultivator prevents the use of mowing-ma- 
chines, and the improved machinery so generally 
in use in the United States. 

Baden-Baden is well situated among lovely 
hills, at the entrance of the Black Forest, and is 
one of the Saratogas of Germany. Formerly it 
was the greatest gambling place in the world, but 
government has restricted this greatly within a 
few years. From Baden-Baden we went to Stras- 
burg, and the hotel Ville De Paris was our home. 
The city was founded by the Romans, is the capi- 
tal of Alsace and German Lorraine, and was 
wrested from France when peace was concluded 


at Frankfort, May lo, 187 1. Hardly a trace of 
the havoc made by the conflict is visible. We 
went, of course, to the cathedral, and one cannot 
fail to be gready impressed with this remarkable 
structure, which was commenced in 1 179 upon the 
site of an earlier edifice, which was built in the 
sixth century. All that can be said of most of 
the famous cathedrals of Europe in regard to mas- 
siveness and height, harmony of proportion, beauty 
of columns, delicate carvings and tracery, elegance 
of stained glass windows, and statuary, can be said 
of this temple. The tower rises to the dizzy 
height of 465 feet. Ascending to the highest 
point to which one can climb, there is an excellent 
view of the city, of river and plain, the Black 
Forest, and mountain ranges in the distance. 

At noon a great many crowded into the cathe- 
dral to see that wonderful piece of mechanism, 
the clock, which was constructed between 1838- 
1842 by a clock-maker named Schwilgue. The 
twelve apostles move around a figure of the 
Saviour, who raises his hand to bless them. A 
cock is perched on the highest point of one of the 
towers, who flaps his wings and crows three 
times, which can be heard in distant parts of the 
building. Allegorical figures adorn the exterior 
of the clock, with many other curious points in its 
mechanism which might be mentioned. 

St. Thomas's church, Protestant, is another of 
interest. There is the monument erected by 



Louis XV to Marshall Saxe, who died in 1750. 
In this church, in a hermetically sealed glass case, 
are the remains of the Duke of Nassau, who was 
killed in battle. In another case are the remains 
of his daughter, thirteen years of age, clad in her 
silks. She looks as though the slightest exposure 
to the air, or the least disturbance, would reduce 
her frame to dust. The once plump finger has 
the ring of gold upon it, but the changing hand of 
time has made sad havoc with her perishable, 
youthful beauty. 

Anchored in the river, but lashed to the shore, 
are great boats, arranged for wash-houses. There 
are furnaces which supply hot water, and the 
tables, at which the washer-women work, are of 
plank. After going through the cleansing proc- 
ess, the clothes (not the women, though the lat- 
ter looked as though they needed it!) are put into 
the river for the final rinsing. The shore was 
lined with these establishments. 

Strasburg is ancient, very quaint, very sleepy, 
but it is odd and interesting. Here we parted 
from our amiable friend the bishop, and in com- 
pany with our friends of Kansas City went to 
Basel. On the route, by appointment, we were 
joined by two very intelligent German Methodists, 
who had lived in the United States. They came 
laden with provisions and the early ripened fruits 
of the land. It was the sunniest of afternoons, 
and we travelled through a beautiful country, with 



the Black Forest in view much of the way. Our 
German acquaintances were famiHar with each 
locahty, and made this one of the most agreeable 
of rides. We journeyed through the rich valley 
of the Rhine. The people, unlike American farm- 
ers, live in villages, and in the day-time go out to 
cultivate the land. Stones four inches square 
mark the bounds of the patch of land each man 
cultivates. The country was beautiful, and acres 
upon acres of vineyards were luxuriant with the 
growing vines. On reaching Basel or Bale, we 
registered at Hotel Schweizerhof. We were now 
in far-famed Switzerland. 



J^HIS country is said to be named after Schwitz, 
i^ one of its smallest cantons. It is small in 
area, and is a land of waterfalls, of charming lakes, 
of attractive valleys, and of mountains, many of 
which are glacier crowned. All these, with her 
mountain passes, afford wonderful attractions to 
the multitudes of visitors who continually throng 
that land. 

Bale or Basel is finely located on the Rhine, 
and was formerly the junction of three nations, — 
Germany, Switzerland, and France. It is a city of 
about 66,000 people, and was founded in the 
second century. Its has excellent hotels, beautiful 
public parks, and fine walks and drives are in the 
place and its environs. Its churches, arsenal, 
town hall, museum, and public library are worthy 
of close inspection. At this place my western 
acquaintances left me, and I started for Lucerne, 
which was reached in three hours. 

Lucerne has 16,000 people, and lies at the head 
of Lake Lucerne, which is the most beautiful body 
of water in Switzerland, and one of the loveliest 
lakes in the world. On fine boulevards fronting it 



the principal hotels are built, from which, and the 
pleasant promenades, there are excellent views of 
the water and the surrounding high mountains. 
The Rigi mountain is upon the left, while on the 
right is the cloud-enveloped Mt. Pilatus. The 
latter receives its name from that of Pontius Pilate, 
who finished his wicked life, the legend says, by 

plunging into the waters of the lake upon its sum- 
mit. A form was often seen to rise from its 
depths and go through the act of washing its 
hands, and at such times dark clouds gathered 
over the bosom of the "Infernal Lake," and 
storms and hurricanes and tempests always suc- 
ceeded. These wonders ceased long ago, and 
travellers who visit the summit of the mountain 
are no longer troubled as in ancient days. 

The most noted object of interest is the famous 
Lion of Lucerne, wrought in the solid rock, on 
the perpendicular side of a sand-stone cliff. In 
the French Revolution Louis XVI and his family 
were defended by a body of Swiss guards, who 
died in the defence of royalty at the Tuileries, 
Paris, August lo, 1792. This magnificent piece 


ft S 

■ K I ll L A .-. _ 




of art is in honor of the unfortunate hireling sol- 
diery. It is 285 feet in length, 18 feet in height, 
and represents a lion in the agonies of death, with 
his side transfixed by a spear, while under one of 
his protecting paws ff^^^ 
is the lily-graced 
shield of the Bour- 
bons. The names 
of the slain are en- 
graved at the sides. 
The Dane, Thor- 
waldson, was the 
artist who designed 
it. Surrounded as 

it is by plants and lion of lucekne. 

green, clinging ivy, with the waters of a mountain 
stream falling into a pool which reflects the lion, 
it has justly become very celebrated. 

In close proximity is the Glacier Garden, where 
there are sixteen excavations in the solid rock. 
By the action of glaciers ages ago, great holes 
were made forty feet in depth. Massive stones 
were in them, weighing several tons, and those 
revolved as the water flowed in upon them, wear- 
ing themselves smooth, and enlarging the cavity 
in the ledge. 

Taking a small steamer, I went the length of 
the lake to Fliielen. Bold mountains towered 
above and around us. On their precipitous sides 
were broad-roofed cottages and fine orchards bask- 



ing in the sunlight. Passing Brunnen, we were 
in the locahty of the hero, or myth, Wilham Tell. 
There is the spot from which he leaped from the 
boat of the tyrant Gesler, and shot him while he 
was on the way to prison. Farther up is Tell's 
chapel. Two miles from Fluelen, where the boat 

stopped, was Altdorf, the spot where Tell was 
when he shot the apple from the head of his child. 
A fountain is on the place where his son is said to 
have stood. 

We landed at Vitznau, and ascended the Rigi 
by railroad. We passed through the tunnel, over 
the deep ravine, and climbed the high mountain- 
side. The sun was sinking, lighting up moun- 
tains with their snowy caps, and casting darken- 
ing shadows over the lake. When we reached 
the summit he sank from view, but his parting 
beams tinged all the mountain-tops with a dress 
of golden light. 


We reo-istered at the Rigi-Kulm. At 4 o'clock 
on the following morning the guests were aroused 
by the oft-repeated blasts of the Alpine horn to 
see the sun rise upon the Alps, They did not 
tarry to make elaborate toilets, but came pouring 
forth In diverse costumes, and some had thrown 
about them the thick woollen blankets of the ho- 
tel. Upon the m.ost elevated point of land is a 
platform. Securing a position upon this, with 
impatience I waited for the sunrise. The Alps 
were in our front (a range of 125 miles in length), 
which could be taken in at one glance of the eye. 
The whole panorama, which could be distinctly 
seen, was 300 miles In circumference. A few 
straggling rays of light preceded the sun-burst : 
then the king came in his glory. The east was 
blazing gold, and mountain peaks, ice-crowned, 
white and pure as crystal, sparkled and glowed in 
the Intensity of their light and brightness. Dark- 
ness fled from the valleys ; and hills, lakes, cities, 
villages, woods, and clearings were all in view 
and aglow In the sunshine. The lakes mirrored 
In their depths the sky ; a vast panorama of hills 
and valleys was lying far beneath us, and seemed 
like a great plain. There was the chapel of the 
patriot Tell, the city of Lucerne with its church 
spires, the scattered houses of numerous hamlets, 
the wooded mountain-sides, with the cone-like 
tops of the fir-trees rising one above another, 
while in the great beyond were "Alps upon Alps:" 



all were lightened and brightened by the sunlight, 
and revealed the rough, ragged, jutting outlines of 
the mountains, with the snow and glaciers upon 
them. All these together made one of the most 
beautiful scenes man was ever permitted to look 
upon. Descending from the Rigi, I took steamer 
for Lucerne, and from Lucerne for Alpnaught. In 
going to this southern arm of the lake there are 
extensive views of highly cultivated fields and or- 
chards in a lovely valley, while higher up on the 
rising sides of the Alps are the eternal snows. 
Summer in the valley, winter on the mountains : 
summer-land, winter-land — both seen in the same 
glance of the eye. The warm breezes of summer 
and the fierce, cutting frosts of 
winter are there. In many a shel- 
tered nook and 
deep mountain 
gorge can be 
seen the farm 
and home of the 
Swiss mountain- 
eer. The high 
mountains are 
cultivated and 
grazed to their 
very summits. 
On arriving at Alpnach we went by stage 
twenty-five miles, over the famous Brunig Pass, to 
Brienz. The road led through a country densely 

Swiss Cottage and Mountains. 


populated, with the homes of the Alpine climbers 
rising above one another clear to the summit of 
the mountains. The latter were so steep and the 
tops so far-reaching into the sky that one would 
think almost that the houses would tumble down 
the steep decline. The hay crop was being gath- 
ered, and as many as six or seven men, women, 
and boys, would be busily at work on a small patch 
of land, gathering it. The men rolled up the hay 
in great bundles, and carried it into their barns 
upon their backs. Their farming implements are 
rude, and their mountains are so steep that do- 
mestic animals cannot be used, so all the work is 
done by human exertion. The women work out- 
doors, and carry heavy loads in long baskets 
strapped upon their shoulders. 

Never can one appreciate fully the correct rep- 
resentation of things as they actually exist, and 
the beauty of Longfellow's "Excelsior," till the 
homes of the Alpine climbers, far up the heights, 
have been seen. One almost looks to see the 
ambitious youth, and hear the echoing, far-away, 
warning voices in the dim twilight of the mountain : 

"Beware the pine tree's withered branch, 
Beware the awful avalanche." 

" This was the peasant's last good night : 
A voice replied, far up the height, 

A well constructed road leads through the 
woods to the summit of Brunig pass. By the side 
of our diligence came the people — boys, girls, and 


women, — with milk, fruit, and wood carvings (for 
which this country is so noted) to sell. The 
scenery was fine, and from the summit (3,648 
feet) can be seen Lake Lungern, Mt. Pilatus, the 
Wetterhorn, and other peaks of the Bernese 
Alps. The descent to Brienz afforded views of 
great scenic beauty, and before nightfall we reached 
that town, situated at the base of the Brienzar 
Grat. Very quaint and odd is its long street of 
wooden houses, with quantities of wood carvings, 
which are gems of art. On the opposite side of 
the lake are the Falls of the Giessbach, very noted, 
which are illuminated each evening, making a 
brilliant appearance. I Avent by steamer across 
the Lake of Brienz to Interlaken. No sooner had 
this place been reached than into the station came 
dashing a train of excursionists, with bands of 
martial music. The carriages were two stories in 
height. This is a lovely little town, and lies be- 
tween Lakes Thun and Brienz. Its wooden 
houses have projecting eves, built like all Swiss 
houses, and ornamented with wood carvings. 

Grand, massive, beautiful was the Jungfrau, clad 
in its snowy shroud of eternal brightness, as it 
rises to the height of 13,611 feet. The Silber- 
horn is upon its right; mountains and glaciers are 
all about it. In the immediate vicinity, on these 
mountains and in the valleys, are glaciers covering 
360 square miles. There is the Great Aletsch gla- 
cier, whose source is at the foot of the Jungfrau, 


the largest of Switzerland's ice streams, as It is 
nearly a score of miles in length, and from one to 
four miles in breadth. It is surrounded by huge 
peaks of the Oberland Alps, and is wonderful for 
its solitude and extent. 

The Lake of Thun is eleven miles long and 
two broad, where a steamer was taken which 
crossed that lake. There was another steamer, 
covered with streaming banners, bearing excur- 
sionists, who were solaced by sweetest music. 
The shores of the lake are dotted with villages, 
above which rise the mountains of the Oberland. 
Reached Thun, with its 5, 1 30 people, finely situated 
on the River Aare. Lovely views of the land- 
scape were obtained in different parts of the town. 

The journey was con- 
tinued to Berne, which was 
inspected. Very delightful 
are some of its promenades 
and views of the outlying 
country, especially that of 
the Bernese Alps. Its 
clock tower is celebrated. 
It is curious to see the per- 
formances. A cock flaps 
his wings and crows three night in mu alps. 

minutes before the hour, then about an old gen- 
tleman bears march in procession, and again crows 
the cock. The hour is struck on the bell by a 
fool, while the old gentleman previously mentioned 


turns the hour-glass and checks off the strokes. 
A nodding approval is made by a bear, and the 
crowing of the cock closes the exercises. Beauti- 
ful is the Federal Council Hall, called the Bundes 
Rathaus, where assembles the Swiss Diet. 

Lausanne was the next city of prominence. I 
registered at Hotel Gibbon, in the garden of 
which the historian Gibbon completed his History 
of Rome." On the day succeeding my arrival, in 
this same garden, a Swiss peasant was mowing the 
grass. He used a straight snath, with a scythe 
the blade of which was thin, four inches wide and 
two feet and three inches long. It was market 
day, and it was a strange, interesting sight to visit 
the markets, which are in many of the streets. 
The sidewalks were covered, and the streets half 
filled with the peasants and their produce which 
they had brought from their mountain homes. 
There were baskets of rabbits, old and young, 
very tame, which the women would lift up by 
their ears to show customers, baskets of chickens, 
all kinds of fruits, and in another section were 
booths where various kinds of wearing apparel 
and dry goods were disposed of. There were 
loads of wood, and stalls where, over a brisk fire, 
eatables were cooked. Serving maids with their 
baskets were buying produce for their employers' 

The cathedral is of much interest. From the 
Terrace there is an excellent view of the Savoy 



Alps. From Lausanne I took steamer at Ouchy 
to cross the Lake of Geneva, or Lac Leman, to 
the city of Geneva. It is large in extent, with blue 
waters, and has the quietness, peace, and loveli- 
ness in its surroundings of Lake Windermere. 

" Once I loved 
Torn ocean's roar ; but thy soft murmuring 
Sounds, sweet as of a sister's voice, reproved 
That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved." 

The boat touched at the towns of Morgas, Rolle, 
Nyon, Coppet, and Versoix. Before reaching 
Nyon, the Chateau of Prangins could be seen, 
which was occupied by Joseph Bonaparte. At 
Coppet there lived many years, and is buried, that 
wonderful woman, Madame de Stael. The sloping 
hills by which the lake is surrounded are covered 
with vineyards, orchards, and pleasant villages, 
and the shores lined with beautiful villas. Mont 
Blanc, grand, massive, mighty, covered with its 
thick, pure mantle of whiteness, was visible much 
of the way. 

" On those eternal peaks there winter reigns, 
And cold and frosts their icy splendor shed. 


A pyramid of tiny tongues of flame 

Darted from out the rifts of dazzling white." 

The city of Geneva was reached. It is populous 
and rich, with a population of 49,000. It is divided 
by the river Rhone into two parts. Old fortifica- 
tions in one section are converted into a beautiful 


330 GENEVA. 

Geneva is an attractive city. Its monuments, 
buildings, broad quays, elegant bridges, and shops 
of trade give it an imposing appearance. All 
portions of the city were visited. It is a town of 

history. Rousseau was born here in 17 12. John 
Calvin, whose intense thought and religious zeal 
has had such an influence in the theological world 
for centuries, resided here for about thirty years ; 
and it was my pleasure to see his home, and 
occupy his chair in the cathedral of St. Pierre. 

The Swiss are a quiet, contented, sturdy race. 
As a people, they are educated in the school of 
poverty, and endure patiently the hardness of 
their lot. Their wants are few, and they appear 
happy, and satisfied with the life they lead. Their 
apparel is of the plainest kind. They are reason- 
ably intelligent, and, as a class, are, with the 
exception of hotel-keepers, reasonably honest. 
They love Switzerland with passionate and patri- 
otic devotion. Their country is a stronghold of 
defence against a foreign enemy, and a small force 
could hurl back a numerous and obstinate foreign 
foe. The rulers of this little republic have taken 




measures to organize a reserve force of 200,000 
men, to be largely composed of men from the 
mountains. These Alpine 
mountaineers cannot be 
surpassed in strength, en- 
durance, and courage. 
When brought under strict 
military discipline they will 
be superb soldiers. In war 
in their own loved country 
they would prove more 
valiant, man for man, than 
the soldiers any enemy 
could call together. The 
country is safe when under 
the protection of her val- 
iant sons, unless an over- 
whelminor force is brought 
against her. But may peace 
be within her borders, beau- 
ty always linger on her 
mountains and in her val- 
leys, and joy and plenty be 
the sweet, rich heritao-e of 
the Swiss people. 



kN entering the railway carriage at Geneva for 
Paris, it was my pleasure to meet as travelling 
companions a clansman from Illinois, with his wife 
and daughter. We journeyed to Paris together, 
and quartered at the same hotel. In the dawning 
of the morning we were whirled into gay, beautiful 
Paris, the delight and pride of France, and the joy 
of the world. And how shall it be described ? 
Years might be spent in it, and much then remain 
to be seen. It covers an area of over thirty square 
miles, has over five hundred miles of streets, and 
a population of about two millions. Almost every 
point in it has some noted gallery, church, or 
public building. 

The men of Paris are much smaller and less 
robust than those of London. The women are 
bright, pretty, nicely dressed, and appear more 
happy and cheerful than English women. While 
in the city I was pleasantly received by Gen. 
George Walker, a native of Peterborough, N. H., 
and consul-general at Paris, whom I had met 


i # i^i 

N < ) T R E 1) A M E , 


before. A pleasant evening was passed at No. 44 
Rue du Clichy, with Ex-Gov. P. C. Cheney and 
family, of New Hampshire. 

The oldest church in Paris is Notre Dame. 

" With imposing grandeur rises 
This cathedral, great and fair. 
Every arch carved out in beauty, 
Every niche adorned with care." 

It was founded in 1163. The front part, dating 
from the thirteenth century, is considered the 
finest portion. In 1793 the edifice was decreed 
to be destroyed, but it was finally saved. It was 
converted into a " temple of reason," and the 
statue of Liberty replaced that of the Virgin. 
The "torch of truth" burned in the choir, over 
which rose the "temple of philosophy," adorned 
with statues of noted men. It was closed May 12, 
1794, but was reopened as a place of worship by 
Napoleon in 1802. There is shown the place 
where Napoleon and Josephine stood when they 
were married by Pope Pius VII, and the spot 
where Napoleon placed the crowns upon his own 
head and that of Josephine. There is the bap- 
tismal font where Napoleon III had the prince 
imperial baptized. The church was desecrated 
by Communists in 1871, and set on fire, but it 
was saved after sustaining slight damage. 

The Madeline was visited in the afternoon. 
It is a church of much elegance ; was founded in 
1764, commenced building in 1777, and, after 


several changes and much delay, was finished in 
1842, having cost $2,500,000. It stands in an 
open place, near the western termination of the 
great Boulevards. It is approached by a flight 
of twenty-eight steps. It is 354 feet long, 141 
wide, and 100 in height. It is surrounded by 
Corinthian pillars over fifty feet high. Elegant 
and colossal statues ornament its exterior; and its 
interior, from the marble pavement and beautiful 
ceiling to the high altar, has all the beauty, ele- 
gance, and richness which art, wealth, and skill 
can give. There are no windows upon the sides, 
the church being Hghted from the top. Its high 
and massive doors, adorned with illustrations of 
the ten commandments, were seven years in 
building, and are marvels of beauty. 

The Place de la Concorde is the finest Place in 
the city, and, possibly, in the world. It is a gem 
of beauty in itself, and is surrounded by other 
gems. The river Seine, the Champs-Elysees, the 
gardens of the Tuileries, and the Rue de Rivoli 
are about it. In the evening a thousand blazing 
lights among fountains, trees, statues, and through 
the Champs-Elysees to the Triumphal Arch, make 
the scene beautiful as fairy land. On this spot, 
now so fair, terrible scenes have been enacted ; — 
1200 persons were killed in a panic May 30, 1770; 
here Louis XVI, Marie Antoinette, Charlotte 
Corday, Danton, Robespierre, and others, num- 
bering over 2800 victims, suffered death by the 


guillotine from 1793 to 1795. The beautiful 
obelisk of Luxor, broucrht from Egypt by Louis 
Philippe, and erected in its present place in 
1836, stands on the spot where the guillotine 
did its cruel work. It is seventy-six feet high, 
weighs 240 tons, and is covered with Egyptian 
characters. Fountains send forth ceaselessly their 
silvery spray. 

The Arc de Triomphe in the Place de I'Etoile 
owes its existence to Napoleon I, who ordered its 
erection in 1806 to celebrate French victories. It 
is the finest triumphal arch in existence, and is 
two miles from the Palais Royal, on an eminence, 
and from which radiate twelve beautiful avenues. 
It is 160 feet high, and the principal arch is 90 
feet high. There are various groups of colossal 
statuary, with Fame surmounting all, and History 
is recording his deeds. Large halls in the in- 
terior are reached by winding staircases. From 
the summit there is a magnificent view of Paris. 
Other places of surpassing interest were visited, 
including the Palace of the Elysee, the official res- 
idence of the French president, and Champs- 
Elysees, the latter being one of the most charming 
avenues on earth, and which extends from the Arc 
de Triomphe to the Place de la Concorde, or a 
mile and a third. Its driveways are lined with 
trees, while upon one side are fine buildings, and 
on the other the Palais de I'lndustrie, the scene of 
the Exhibition of 1855. 



The new Opera House, in its costliness and ele- 
gance, surpasses any other in the world. The site 

and structure cost 
some nine and one 
quarter millions of 
dollars. It was be- 
eun in 1861, fin- 
ished in 1874, and 
covers nearly three 
acres, but only has 
seats for 2156 peo- 
ple. The building 
seems too low for 
its size, and the exterior has received the most 
costly ornamentation. All Europe has been laid 
under contribution to supply the various kinds of 
marble used in its construction. 

The interior, for richness of design and beauty, 
baffles description. Its statues, its grand stair- 
case with steps of white marble, the colored mar- 
ble columns, the frescoes of the ceiling, the groups 
of bronze figures, with the theatre itself elabo- 
rately decorated, with its four tiers of boxes, and 
the whole filled with well dressed men and ele- 
gantly dressed ladies, and capped by the gallery 
all glinting and glowing with brightness from the 
many lights, make a scene of wondrous loveli- 
ness; and as one stands in the evening upon the 
open front balcony, and looks into the broad and 
brilliantly lighted Avenue de I'Opera, with its hur- 



iMUiliSJiiliLi.'' ^■■. ':.''! J*-i '■■■■»iiJ' 


rying crowds, he will behold one of the most 
pleasing sights of Paris. 

We visited the Ecole Militaire, the great mil- 
itary training establishment, one side of which is 
a quarter of a mile in breadth, and is magnificent 
in appearance. The Champs-de-Mars, in close 
proximity, was formerly enclosed in embankments 
covered with trees, and sixty thousand people 
aided in its construction. The great International 
Exposition of 1867 was here holden. The Expo- 
sition of 1878 was held at Champs-de-Mars, with 
the addition of the heights of the Trocadero, 
which were added to the grounds. The small 
park with the Palais, du Trocadero was then con- 
structed. The latter is an imposing structure in 
the form of a crescent. In the park is a cascade, 
near which are animals in bronze. One peculiar- 
ity of all works of art and statuar}' in Paris is, that 
there is seldom an object represented as being in 
repose. It is always on the alert, — active, excited. 
So the animals were here portrayed. The bull 
was rampant, with head thrown up, his eyes wild, 
his feet placed resolutely upon the earth as if in 
the act of rapid motion, and every muscle in limb 
and body at its utmost tension. One tires of 
this, and wishes for things at peace. 

From many parts of Paris can be seen the 

gilded dome, 340 feet in height, of the Hotel des 

Invalides, the home of French veterans, which 

was founded in 1670. Many of Napoleon's old 



soldiers were here cared for by France. Of the 
men who had fought under the eye of the great 
emperor and marched to the deadly fray to the 
thunders of his artillery, only two were here at 
the time of my visit. 

Near by is Napoleon's tomb. It is difficult to 
understand how the human mind could conceive 

or human hands fashion a more 
rare, costly, and beautiful struct- 
ure. It is not flashy, but elegant. 
He said, in his will, " I desire that 
my ashes may rest on the banks 
of the Seine, in the midst of the 
French people whom I have so 

Napoleon's Sarcophagus, ^^g^ joved." In the Centre of thc 

crypt rises the beautiful sarcophagus, which con- 
tains the remains of the emperor. So he lies, not 
as formerly, — * 

" On a lone, barren isle, where the wild, roaring billows 
Assail the stern rock, and the loud tempests roar," 

but here in his beloved France, in the heart of 
beautiful Paris, in one of the most costly and 
magnificent mausoleums ever made. He rests, as 
was his last desire, on the banks of the Seine. 

" The lightnings may flash, and the loud thunders rattle,— 
He heeds not, he hears not, he 's free from all pain ;— 
He sleeps his last sleep, he has fought his last battle : 
No sound can awake him to glory again." 

The palace and museum of the Louvre is the 







brightest, costliest gem in the crown of Paris, and 
worth "saihng the seas over" to see. It is situ- 
ated near the Seine, and the buildings which 
compose it cover many acres of ground. They 
are handsome architecturally, were centuries in 
building, and are quadrilateral in form, inclosing 
a great square. The exterior of the Louvre is 
elaborately ornamented. 

The site is said to have been an ancient forest 
infested by wolves. The present building was 
begun by Francis I, in 1541, and many of the 
subsequent rulers of France spent vast sums upon 
it, but it was not completed till finished by Louis 
Napoleon in 1857. Many historical events are 
connected with the older part of it. From a 
window, on the night of August 24, 1572, the 
king, it is said, gave a signal for the massacre of 
the Hueuenots : it was the commencement of 
St. Bartholomew's Day. The older portion of the 
Louvre has been used as a museum since 1793. 
After the downfall of Napoleon III, when Paris 
was in the hands of the Communists, the great 
library of 90,000 volumes, and manuscripts which 
were priceless, were burned by them on the night 
of May 24, 1 87 1. 

The interior is cosdy and beautiful, and its art 
collections surpass those of any other museum on 
the continent. Many paintings, from the most 
noted artists the world ever had, were brought to 
France by Napoleon I, after his brilliant cam- 


paigns, and placed In this museum. Some are 
still there ; and when the g-uide pointed them out 
to us, he wittily said, — " Napoleon called them the 
spoils of war : the people from whom he took 
them called it stealing." There are two ways of 
looking at a subject. The museum of Egyptian 
curiosities is the most noted in Europe, with 
translations of many of their hieroglyphics. Many 
of the relics of ancient Nineveh, unearthed by 
Mr. Layard, are in the Asiatic museum. There 
are ancient sculptures of untold worth, and mod- 
ern ones of intrinsic merit. Its picture gallery, 
comprising the different rooms, is in the aggre- 
gate more than a mile and a half In length, and 
has over 2,000 noted paintings. Visitors wander 
through the great number of rooms, and look at 
the wilderness of sculptures, of paintings, and of 
other things of Indescribable beauty and value, 
and turn away from them all, wearied with the 
task. A life many times repeated could be profit- 
ably spent in study in this famous Louvre. 

The Place du Carrousel occupies a portion of 
the open space between the Louvre and the Tuil- 
eries, and on it Is situated the Arc de Triomphe 
du Carrousel, erected by order of Napoleon I to 
commemorate his victories of 1805-6. 

The Palace of the Tuileries, the abode of the 
rulers of France, begun in 1564, was burned by 
the Communists in 1871, and the ruins were 
removed in 1883 ; but the vacant spot Is offensive 










to the view, and many things reminded me of 
entering- a home from which the master had been 
a long time absent. The gardens of the Tuileries 
still retain their pristine beauty, and are a popular 
promenade. There are playing fountains, statues, 
and trees to delight and please the people. 

Every one visits the Palais Royal. It has been 
a residence of royalty since 1629, when it was 
presented to Louis XIII by Cardinal Richelieu, 
by whom it was erected. It has been the place of 
carnivals and bloody dramas. It suffered in the 
revolutions of 1848, and from the Communists in 
187 1. From this locality the people went forth to 
the destruction of the Bastile in the first French 
Revolution. It was the home of Lucien Bona- 
parte after Napoleon's return from Elba, and at 
another time the home of Louis Philippe, and in 
later years the residence of Prince Napoleon till 
the downfall of the Empire. The buildings com- 
pletely surround the Palais Royal gardens, which 
are a most lovely retreat. Here the people con- 
gregate, and walk and chat and rest beneath the 
shade-trees and by the beautiful fountains. In the 
Palais-Royal are various restaurants. The shops 
surrounding the park or gardens are extremely 
fascinating, being filled with diamonds and other 
articles so rich and attractive as to tempt the pur- 
chaser. The galleries and shops have the finest 
and most brilliant display of gems to be found, 
in so small a space, upon the planet. 



In the Place de la Bastile is the site of the 
prison of the Bastile, destroyed by the Parisians 
in their fury, July 14, 1789. It answered well its 
purpose as a place of imprisonment for those 

objectionable to royalty. It 
fell, and Lafayette presented 
the key to Washington ; and 
it is kept in the Washington 
mansion at Mount Vernon. 
The beautiful Colonne de 
Juillet now adorns the Place. 
It is 154 feet high. The 
Wi-''~rim<^prri^-^-^ye--wW fluted column is of brass, 
^^^^^S^^^^^^^^^^^^ 3-i^d IS 13 leet m thickness. 

Colonne de Juillet. It is erected in honor of 

those who fell on that memorable day, and is 
engraved with 615 names. The column is crowned 
with the figure of the Genius of Liberty. 

The cemetery of Pere-la- Chaise is the most 
beautiful place of burial in Paris, and covers no 
acres. There are 20,000 monuments, and it is 
adorned with a great number of small chapels. 
They stand over graves, and are large enough to 
hold two or more persons with chairs, and an altar 
with a crucifix. The last offerings of love and 
devotion are brought here, and here friends weep 
over their dead. Many illustrious children of 
France rest here. Honored in life, they are not 
forgotten in death. Here rest the illustrious 
Thiers, Marshal Macdonald, Madame de Genlis, 







Marshal Ney, and hosts of others known to fame. 
To me there was no more interesting place than 
the grave of Marshal Ney, " the bravest of the 
brave," who led the "Old Guard" in the final 
charge for Napoleon and the Empire at Waterloo. 
An iron fence surrounds the spot, but there is no 
monument. The green grass gently waved in the 
bright sunlight as I stood there. He loved France, 
the Empire, and Napoleon, and was shot as a 
traitor to the Bourbon government. He died an 
ignominious death, but is beloved and honored by 

"You may break, you may shatter the vase if you will, 
But the scent of the roses will hang round it still." 

In visiting Versailles, we were taken in a large 
carriage, which was filled with a pleasant company 
and drawn by four horses, and under the charge 
of an excellent guide. We passed through the 
Bois de Bologne, a park of 2,250 acres, which is 
bounded by the fortifications of Paris. It pos- 
sesses artificial lakes and cascades of considerable 
extent, and is a favorite resort of the Parisians. 
Crossing the river, we entered St. Cloud, which 
suffered greatly during the Franco-Prussian war. 
The palace of St. Cloud was burned, and it is 
now in ruins. It was built in 1572, rebuilt in 
1658, and was purchased in 1782 by Louis XVI 
for Marie Antoinette. It was a favorite summer 
residence of the late emperor. The park, with its 
gardens, its grand old trees, and its fountains, is a 

344 •^^- CLOUD. 

place of beauty, and attracts a great number of 
visitors. We passed through the forest of Ville 
d'Avray, and reached Versailles, a city of nearly 
50,000 people, which is a disagreeable place. The 
palace and park, with all their attractions and his- 
tory, draw multitudes of people there. 

Our visit was to the wonderful palace built by 
Louis XIV, which is a monument to his pride, ex- 
travagance, and arbitrary will. The world has sel- 
dom seen such magnificence as is here displayed. 
The cost exceeded $200,000,000, and no less than 
36,000 men, with a proportionate number of teams, 
were employed at one time in the building of the 
terraces. This vast expense, with the cruel wars 
of Louis XIV, drained the resources of France, 
and prepared the way for the first French revolu- 
tion. The palace was completed in 1681, and 
became the residence of the king. The court was 
permanently established here in 1682. Louis XIV 
died, and Louis XV was born, reigned, and died, 
here. Louis XVI lived part of his unhappy reign 
in the palace, and saw it sacked by a mob of many 
thousands. It was a manufactory of arms in 1795, 
was neglected by Napoleon I, and pillaged by the 
Parisians in 18 15. It was occupied by Louis XVIII 
and Charles X, and would have been occupied by 
Louis Philippe, except for the vast expense in 
keeping it up; so he turned it into a museum 
or historical gallery, dedicated to all the glories 
of France. It became the head-quarters of the 








Prussians in 1870 and 1871, and a portion of the 
palace was used as a hospital. Kaiser William 
was crowned Emperor of Germany in it, January 
18, 187 1, and later the National Assembly of 
France, as representative of the Republic, here 
held its sittings. Truly, strange events have 
occurred here, which would have startled the soul 
of Louis XIV, could he have foreseen them. We 
were shown the apartments of Marie Antoinette, 
of Napoleon I, and of the Empress Josephine. 

The Musee Historique, founded by Louis Phi- 
lippe, with its long suites of apartments, is lined 
with paintings, and many are celebrated works of 
art. In the aggregate there are nearly five miles 
of pictures, and many of them are battle scenes. 
There are rooms filled with portraits of celebrated 

There are eleven rooms in the gallery of the His- 
tory of France, and paintings illustrating histor- 
ical events from 1797 to 1835, mostly battle scenes. 

The Grande Galerie of Louis XIV, finely dec- 
orated, is of great length, width, and height, and 
commands a view of ponds and gardens. The 
pictures upon the ceiling, of great beauty, repre- 
sent the achievements of the king. 

The Galerie des Batailles, a hall 396 feet long 
and 42 in width, contains busts of eighty noted 
generals who have fallen in battle, with their 
names on tablets; and, also, thirty-three great 
paintings by modern artists, all battle scenes. 


Among them is the siege of Yorktown, Va., con- 
ducted by Generals Rochambeau and Washington. 
So one passes from one great gallery to another, 
all filled with statues and portraits of noted per- 
sons in different callings, and with paintings of 
the conflicts of war. 

The Galerie de TEmpire contains thirteen rooms 
devoted to the campaigns of Napoleon, and from 
1796 to 1 8 10. 

The gardens of Versailles, back of the pal- 
ace, are most magnificent. There are artificial 
lakes, many statues, trees, and fountains, and in 
the summer 1200 orange trees adorn the grounds. 
It would be difficult for any pen to do justice to 
all the beauty of painting, elegance of statuary, 
and grandeur of the palace and gardens of Ver- 

On our return to Paris we visited the Institute 
of France, devoted to art, literature, and science; 
and the Column Vendome, 142 feet high, encased 
with plates of brass, to commemorate the victories 
of Napoleon, battle scenes in 1805. The statue 
of Ney stands upon the spot where he was shot 
as a traitor. 

The Gobelins, named for Jean Gobelin, who 
commenced the business centuries ago, is the 
state manufactory of carpets and tapestries, where 
the artist workman works for years on a single 
piece, and weaves into it elegant copies of the 
rarest pictures. 


The Palace of the Luxembourg was formerly a 
royal residence. Its gardens are filled with stat- 
uary. The newly erected Hotel de Ville takes 
the place of the one destroyed by the Commune, 
and is a magnificent structure. 

My stay in Paris drew to an end. I was pleased 
with the gay, cheerful manners of the Parisians, 
but seriously question whether they possess more 
than other people that true politeness which comes 
from the heart. 

It is not a wonder that the French are a war- 
like people. Nearly every monument, painting, 
statue, and sculpture illustrates battle scenes. All 
is of the florid order. Their pictures and sculp- 
tures represent the object on the alert, never in 
repose. Seldom are the triumphs of peace por- 
trayed or celebrated. Of this state of things one 
tires, and is thankful that there is a land across 
the sea where the triumphs of peace are more 
honored than the horrors of victorious war. 

It was delightful to be in London again. Soon 
after my arrival it was with great pleasure that I 
met a friend from Washington, D. C. Having 
decided upon the ship and the day of sailing for 
the United States, my stay in London was short. 
A hurried run was made to Oxford, where I saw, 
as Lowell has said, "those gray seclusions of the 
college quadrangles and cloisters ^' * which are 
conscious with venerable associations, and where 
the very stones seem happier for being there. 



The chapel pavement still whispered with the 
blessed feet of that long procession of saints and 
sages, and scholars and poets, who are gone into 
a world oi licrht, but whose memories seem to 
consecrate the soul from all ignoble companion- 

From Oxford to Stratford-on-Avon is not a long 
way. At Shakespeare's town, a quiet, cleanly 

place, my stay was 
a nio'ht and a day, 
regfisterino at the 
Shakespeare hotel, 
near the spot where 

Shakespeare's Birthplace. the poet lived the 

last nineteen years of his life. On Henly street 
is the poet's birthplace, where he first saw the 
light April 23, 1564. It is unpretentious in ap- 
pearance. Above is the room where he was born, 
and which fronts the 
street. There are 
relics of the poet still 
here. Leaving this 
spot so full of the as- 
sociations of the past. 
I wended my way 
through the green 
fields and lanes to 
the Hathawav cottao^e, it being the same beaten 
track that Shakespeare took when he went to woo 
and win his beloved Anne Hathaway. It is an 

Hathaway Cottage. 



humble dwelling, long and low. with a thick, 
thatched roof. Up a winding stair is the room 
where she was born. There are objects of family 
interest, such as a 
car\'ed oaken bed- 
stead, a spinning- 
wheel, and other 
articles. There is 
the open fireplace, 
with the rude seat 
at one side, where 
Shakespeare and 

A^ ^ „ <. „ „ J Strj\.tford-on-Avon. 

nne sat, and 

where he told her the "old, old stor)-," so old, yet 
ever new. In the visitors' book, among the cele- 
brated names, were those of our beloved Long- 
fellow and Gen. Grant. 

Our way wended to the Stratford church, on the 
bank of the River Avon, — that Avon 
"which to the Severn runs." Passing 
throueh a lovelv orrove of trees, the 
church was entered. The daily re- 
ligious ser\ace was in progress, which 
was witnessed to its conclusion, when 
a guide appeared, and a fee was paid 
him before we could go over all of 
the sacred enclosure. Extremely 
interestinor in itself, the fact that 
Shakespeare's bones are here makes it famous 
forever. There is the monument to the greatest 




poet of all time, represented in the act of writing, 
his left hand resting upon manuscript, while his 
right holds a quill pen. There is the inscription 
beneath, — 

" In judgment a Nestor, in genius a Socrates, in art a Virgil ; 
The earth covers him, the people mourn him, Olympus has him." 

Near by is his grave, covered by a flat stone with 
the celebrated inscription upon it reciting Shake- 
speare's curse on him who should disturb his rest. 
Chester is a rare, quaint, ancient, wall-begirt 
town. Over this old defence of the place I went, 
having many views of the rare old city, and stood 

in Phenix Tower, 
where Charles I 
saw the defeat of 
his army at Raw- 
chester. ton Moor, Sep- 

tember 27, 1645. Very odd are the streets, 
houses, everything in the place. It was my 
pleasure here to examine my last cathedral in 
Europe. They had become monotonous. 

At the North-Western hotel, in Liverpool, I had 
the accidental pleasure of meeting two English 
friends, one from the north of England, the other 
from London. The hour of departure was at 
hand ; the good ship Berlin was ready to sail ; and 
bidding friends and " Merrie England" farewell, 
I stepped aboard, with my face toward the declin- 
ing sun. A prosperous voyage brought us to 
New York. 


The journey was ended. I had seen many per- 
sons whom it was a privilege to see and to know. 
I returned with my love for my country greatly 
quickened and strengthened. She has no ancient 
cathedrals, the expense of whose uprearing was 
wrung from an oppressed people. She has no 
king or emperor, nobility or privileged classes, but 
she has that which is much better : she has a wise 
and beneficent government "of the people, by the 
people, and for the people," the freest and best on 
earth ; she has a wide domain, of great resources 
and wealth ; and the fault is in Americans them- 
selves if they are not a happy and prosperous 
people. The future is big with hope, radiant with 
promise. Every American has reason for grati- 
tude that his home is beneath American skies, 
and that over him is the protecting banner of the 
wise and great Republic. 


Los Angeles 
This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 

OCT 3 ]Q<i 

Form L9 — 15to-10,'48(B1039)444 





AA 000 675 921 



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